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Lady Adelaide’s Oath 

OR, 

THE CASTLE’S HEIR. 



MES. HENRY WOOD. 


Ih 


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277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and Other Tales . . 10 

514 The Mystery of Jesse Page, and Other Tales . . 10 

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1001 Lady Adelaide’s Oath; or. The Castle’s Heir . . 20 


/ 


/ 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


CHAPTER L 

THE FAMILY. — THE CHAPEL RUINS. 

In a somewhat wild part of the coast of England, at least a 
hundred and fifty miles distant from the metropolis, is situated 
a small town or 'village called Danesheld. The land on 
either side it rises above and overlooks the sea, higher in some 
spots than in others, and the descent of the rocks is in places 
perpendicular. There are parts, however, where they slope 
so gradually that a sure foot may descend easily, arid in these 
the hard nature of the rock appears to have softened with 
time, for grass grows upon the sides, and even wild flowers. 
In ancient times it was a settlement of the Danes, and there 
is no doubt that the name, now corrupted into Danesheld, was 
formerly written Danes^ Hold. Outside the village, toward 
the east, a colony of straggling huts and cottages is built, not 
close to the edge of the heights, but some little distance from 
them; beyond, may be seen some scattered mansions; and 
again, beyond these, rise the stately walls of Dane Castle, the 
Castle and the village being about a mile apart. The Castle is 
a long, but not high building, its red bricks dark with age; a 
turret rises at either end, and a high, square turret ascends 
over the gate- way in the middle, from which latter turret a flag 
may be seen waving, whenever the Castle^s chief. Lord Dane, 
is sojourning at it. 

The Castle faces the sea, being about a quarter of a mile 
distant from it, and the grass-land stretches out smooth and 
broad and flat between it and the edge of the heights. The 
high-road from the village winds up past the Castle gates, and 
behind it is an inclosed garden. A little further on, and 
almost close to the brow of the heights are the ruins of what 
was the chapel in the days of the monks; its walls stand yet, 
and its casements, from which the glass has long since gone, 
are sheltered round with the clustering ivy; traces of its altar. 


6 LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

and of its once-inscribed grave-stones may still be seen inside, 
but no roof is there, and it is open alike to the calm sky and 
the stormy one. A picturesque sight does that old ruin pre- 
sent to the eye in the slanting beams of the setting sun, or in 
the pale, weird beauty of a moonlight night. 

On the other side of the winding road, opposite the Castle, 
might be seen all the signs of husbandry, plowed fields, grass- 
lands, with here and there a farm-house, surrounded by its 
substantial ricks and barns. And one sunshiny day in spring, 
perched upon a gate leading into a clover-field, and doing 
something to a fishing-rod, was a young man in the careless 
attire favored by country gentlemen. He looked about eight- 
and-twenty, was tall and slender; his features were thin and 
sharp, and his eyes dark, but they had not a very open ex- 
pression. His velveteen sporting-coat was thrown back from 
his shoulders, for the day was really warm. Hearing foot- 
steps, he lifted his eyes, and saw approaching, from the direc- 
tion of the village, a middle-aged man, who wore the dress of 
a gentleman sailor. The latter lifted his glazed hat from 
his head as he neared the gate, but whether in courtesy, or 
whether hierely to wipe his brow, which he proceeded to do, 
was uncertain. 

“ Is that Dane Castle?” asked the stranger. 

‘‘Yes.” 

“ I thought it must b'e,” was the comment of the sailor, 
spoken in an under- tone. “ Perhaps you have no objection to 
tell me a little of the present history of its inmates,’ ’ he con- 
tinued: “ I made acquaintance with one of the sons abroad.” 

“ With all the pleasure in life/’ carelessly replied the young 
gentleman, still intent upon his fishing-rod. “ The family 
are at the Castle now. Lord and Lady Dane, and one of the 
sons. Lord Dane more helpless than ever.” 

“ Lord Dane helpless!” 

“ He fell from his horse last autumn, hunting, and the 
spine was injured, paralysis of the spine, I believe they call 
it. The effect is, that the entire use of his lower limbs has 
left him, and he is nearly as helpless as a baby.” 

The sailor looked at him. 

“Ho power in his legs, I suppose?” 

“ Hone. Lady Dane retains power in hers, though, and in 
her tongue, too,” said the young gentleman, breaking into a 
whistle. “ She rules the roast, now the baron’s laid by.” 

“ Which of the sons is at home?” 

“ The younger one, the captain. The heir is in Paris. 
He is a fast man, and a Parisian life suits him.” 


lady ADELAIDE'S OATH. 7 

“ There was a young lady at the Castle. I forget her 
name — 

“ Adelaide Errol. A wild Scotch girl. I dare say you 
may have heard, for that is what she is styled here by the gos- 
sips. 

“ I have heard her called an angel, returned the sailor, 
with an imperturbable countenance; ‘‘nothing less lauda- 
tory. ” 

The other lifted his eyes from his fishing-rod, and fixed 
them on his face. 

“ Then, if you have heard that, Ifil wager it was from no 
other than Harry Dane.’^ 

“ From William Dane.^^ 

“ William Henry; iFs all one; we dub him Harry here. 
The old peer is fond of the name of Harry, and rarely called 
his son anything else. Geoffry is the name of the eldest. 

“ I know. Is William to marry Adelaide Errol?^^ 

The young gentleman raised his eyebrows. 

“ People profess to say so. The captain, gallant son of 
Mars though he is, has ?singed his wings in the brightness of 
her fascinations. He — 

“ I wish you’d talk plain English, sir,” testily interrupted 
the stranger. 

The other accorded him a prolonged stare. 

“ Why, what else am I talking? Dutch?” 

“ Rhapsody — and J^don’t understand it. Is Captain Dane 
to marry the young lady, or is he not?” 

“ What a very unreasonable person you seem to be!” was 
the equable rejoinder. “ Don’t I tell you that it is said he 
will? He is/ow after her — if you understand the French term 
in all its force; worships the very ground she treads on. If 
that’s not English, I don’t know what is.” 

“ And she?” 

The young man shrugged his shoulders. 

“ There’s no answering for women. Perhaps she returns 
his love; perhaps she does not. My lady impresses upon her 
the fact that the Honorable William Henry Dane is no bad 
match for a portionless damsel. 

“ Captain Dane is rich.” 

“ I wish I were a tithe as rich. Some arrangement exists 
in the Dane family by which the younger sons step into their 
fortune when they become of age, and the captain took posses- 
sion of his; fifty thousand pounds. ” 

“ A large portion,” remarked the sailor. 

“ It’s not to be sneezed at. But he comprised all the 


8 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

younger children in himself, remember; sons and daughters 
too. Had there been ten, the fifty thousand would have been 
divided among them. His uncle, William Henry, whom he 
was named after, left him his fortune also, for he had never 
married; and that was at least fifty thousand more. It is 
thought, too, that the gallant captain saves, does not live half 
up to his income. . Of course, now that he is in England, visit- 
ing at home, he does not want to spend — ” 

‘‘ How long has he been at home? It is two years since he 
quitted the States. 

“ Ay, but he went traveling, we hear; he is a close man 
upon his own movements. He appeared at home about six 
months ago, saying he was come for a few days; but the few 
days have lengthened into months.’’^ 

“ Why did he remain?’^ 

The younger man laughed. 

“ Ask Adelaide Errol. 

“ He and his elder brother are at variance.^' 

“ And always will be. There^s bitter blood between them. 
But for this mad passion for Adelaide, he was about to re- 
purchase into the army; I canT think, for my part, why he 
ever sold out.^^ 

“ Why do you term it a mad passion?^^ 

The young man took out his pen-knife, and scraped a spot 
off the fishing-rod before he answered. 

“ Eandom figures of speech slip from«is at times; they con- 
vey no meaning. And now, Mr. Sailor, I must wish you good- 
morning. 

“ I thank you for your courtesy in answering my questions, 
said the sailor. ' 

“ I have answered nothing that you might not hear from 
any man, woman or child in the dominions of Lord Dane,^^ was 
the reply. “ The politics of the family are patent to all.^^ 

He moved away as he spoke, with that indolent, gentlemanly 
languor, somewhat common to Englishmen of the upper 
classes; sauntering toward a group who had appeared in sight, 
and were approaching the Castle. 

An invalid-chair, in which reclined a fine-looking old man, 
whose gray hairs were fast turning to white. It was pushed 
behind by a man-servant in livery, white and purple, and a 
tall and stout old lady walked by the side. Behind, came a 
man of noble features” who might be approaching his fortieth 
year, upright and stately, and far above the middle height; 
and a fair girl of nineteen, with large, blue eyes, and auburn 
hair, smiling and lovely, was chatting to the latter. The 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


9 


sailor recognized the livery as that of the Dane family, and at 
once divined that he saw Lord and Lady Dane; Captain Dane 
he recognized; and the young lady talking to liini must be 
Adelaide Errol, 

The party were not on the highway: they were on the 
greensward, and passed him at some little distance. Lord and 
Lady Dane both seemed to look at hini, but Captain Dane 
never turned his head from the fair vision at his side. The 
young man with the fishing-rod joined the group, and fell into 
line on the other side of the baron^s chair. And just at that 
moment, another person came in view, a short, thickset man, 
dressed in black; he looked like what he was, an upper serv- 
ant in plain clothes. He was walking in the road, and ap- 
peared to hang back, as if he did not care to overtake his 
superiors. The sailor — as we have been calling him all along, 
although he was not one, in spite of his dress — accosted him. 

“ Can you tell me who that gentleman isr^"' he asked, indi- 
cating the young man with the fishing-rod, who had just 
quitted him. 

“ It is Mr. Herbert Dane. 

‘‘ Not a son of Lord Dane?^^ cried the other quickly. 

The man* threw back his head, as if the question rather hurt 
his consequence. 

Oh, dear no; he is nothing but a relation. That is Lord 
Dane^s son, the Honorable Captain Dane.^^ 

He was moving on after speaking, but the sailor once more 
arrested him. 

“ Eavensbird, I think you have forgotten me.^^ 

The man turned and stared, and then respectfully touched 
his hat. 

‘‘ Indeed, sir, I beg your pardon, but I donT think I looked 
at you: I took you for a sailor: we often see strange sailors 
about here. Colonel Moncton, I believe, sir. 

‘‘ The same. Will you inform- your master that I am here? 
Stay — Eavensbird — donT tell him who: say a gentleman 
craves speech of him.^^ 

The servant touched his hat once more and hastened for- 
ward, overtaking the family just before they reached the Castle 
gates. 

“ If you please, sir,^^ he said, addressing Captain Dane, 
whose personal attendant he was, ‘‘ a gentleman wishes to 
speak to you. 

Captain Dane looked casually round, and saw no one. 

Who does? Some one in the Castle?^^ 

^‘No, sir,^" slightly pointing to the gate where Colonel 


10 LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

Moncton stood. “That gentleman: he bade me follow you 
and say so.” 

“ Excuse me an instant, Adelaide/’ said the captain, as he 
turned in the direction. 

She threw her bright, laughing gaze after him, and then 
bent it on the servant. 

“ Who is it, Ravensbird?” 

“ A stranger, my lady.” 

The two friends met. Colonel Moncton and Captain Dane, 
and their hands were clasped instantly. Colonel Moncton was 
an American, and it was in the States that they had first 
made each other’s acquaintance, which had gone on to inti- 
macy. They had been a great deal together, and corresponded 
yet: it was iri this correspondence Colonel Moncton had heard 
of Adelaide Errol. Both had served in the army, but were 
free men now, and wealthy. 

“ Where in the world did you spring from?” uttered Cap- 
tain Dane. “ Have you taken a tour through the bowels of 
the earth, and turned up on this side?” 

Colonel Moncton laughed. 

“ I invested some funds in a yacht, and must needs try 
her. We came over to England, have been cruising about the 
coast, and put in here this morning for a day’s sojourn.” 

“ A day! nonsense! The Castle won’t let you ofi' under a 
week — ” 

“ The Castle is not going to be pestered with me,” was the 
interruption of Colonel Moncton, in a graver tone. “ I have 
received news from home that compels me to go back without 
loss of time. Pardon the seeming discourtesy, Dane; I can 
not spare time for the Castle; but, as I was here,I would not 
leave without trying to see you. ” 

“ You did not put in on purpose, then?” 

. “ The yacht’s master put in for some purpose of his own. 
You will come down on board with me.” 

“ 1 heard an hour ago there was a smart, clipper-built yacht 
in the bay, sporting the stars and stripes; but I never thought 
of you. I’ll come down with you now, and have a look at 
her. I had a passion for yachting once.” 

“ Talking about the stars and the stripes, what is that great 
flag for, may I ask, surging over the Castle?” demanded 
Colonel Moncton.' 

Oh, that is nothing but one of the old Dane customs,’’ 
laughed Captain Dane. “ When my father is at home, that 
flag waves there: in his absence, it does not show.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


11 


“ One more question, Dane. Who was that bright looking 
girl you were walking with but now?'^ 

The color actually flushed into the face of Captain Dane, 
as brightly as to any school girFs. His love was powerful 
within him. 

“The Lady Adelaide.^’ , 

“ I thought so. And when are you to take possession of 
her? — as we say of other things. ” 

Captain Dane shook his head with a smile. 

“ It is impossible to say. She is a capricious little beauty, 
and plays fast and loose. Sometime before the year is out, 
I suppose.^’ 

“ And when are we to see you over in the new country again? 
Never?^"^ 

Captain Dane turned his face in surprise on the questioner. 

“ Can you doubt it? I shall come, and bring my wife with 
me; she says she should like the trip. But I shall not take 
up my residence there again; I must make arrangements for 
having— 

At that moment Mr. Herbert Dane overtook them, his fish- 
ing-rod still in his hand. He joined them, speaking a few idle 
sentences; but Captain Dane . did not appear to encourage 
him, and made no advance to introduce him to his friend. So 
Herbert Dane walked on. 

“ That is a relative of yours,^^ observed Colonel Moncton, 
when he was out of hearing. 

“A cousin. His father was the Honorable Herbert Dane, 
Lord Dane’s brother. But the Honorable Herbert got out of 
his money, and has left his son nearly penniless. I don’t 
think it is of much consequence in the long run, for Mr. Her- 
bert has a talent for spending, and would have run through 
it, if his father had not. A mine of gold, more or less, would 
be nothing to him, could he have his fling at it.” 

“ Does he live at the Castle?” 

“ Certainly not. A small house came to him with what 
patrimony wks left, and he occupies it. You may see it to the 
right, as we walk on — a low house covered with ivy. There 
he vegetates, leading an idle life — save for out-door sports. 
The worst thing his father ever did for him, was to bring him 
up without a profession. There was the army, and there was 
the church; either of them legitimate occupation for a man of 
family.” 

They walked on toward the town, beyond which was situated 
the small bay — so small that no craft larger than a yacht or a 
fishing-boat could find shelter in it. She was a beautiful 


12 LADY Adelaide’s oats. 

little thing, this American yacht, named the Pearl,” and 
was at the present moment the pride of Colonel Moncton^s 
life. He was somewhat fond of fresh pastimes and fresh favo- 
rites, which reigned pre-eminent while his fancy for them 
lasted. 

Meanwhile Mr. Eavensbird had entered the Castle, and 
sought a companionship he was rather fond of seeking — that 
of Lady Adelaide ErroPs French maid, Sophie. He was a 
dark, stern-looking man, with a sallow complexion, but never- 
theless he had an honest face, and there was a kindly expres- 
sion in his black eyes. Nobody could deny that he was very 
ugly; but ugly men sometimes find great favor with women. 
The Castle wondered what pretty Sophie could find to like in 
Mr. Eavensbird. 

“ There^s your commission executed,^ ^ said he, putting on 
the table a paper which contained a few yards of ribbon. 
“ Will it do? Is it right?” 

Sophie unfolded it, and held it up. She was a neat, trim 
damsel, with rather saucy features, quick gray eyes, and an 
exceedingly smart cap. Sophie stamped her foot petulantly. 

“ If ever I saw the like!” cried she, for she spoke English 
pretty fluently. “ I ask you to go and buy for me fcur yards 
of blue ribbon, and you bring me purple! I have told you 
fifty times and fifty, that you have not the eye for colors.” 

Eavensbird laughed. 

“ I did my best. WonT it do?” 

“ It must do. I wait for it; I am in the hurry for it. But 
don’t you go and be so stupid again. Who was that sailor 
gentleman you were talking to by the swing-gate?” 

“ How did you see me?” 

“I stand at the turret- window in my lady’s room; I was 
looking out for you and the ribbon. ‘ He is taking his time,’ 
I said to myself. Who was it?” 

“A friend of the captain’s; a gentleman we used to know 
in America. What do you think he asked me? if that Her- 
bert Dane were my lord’s son. ” 

“He did not know better,” responded Sophie. “I wish 
he was my lord’s son; things might go smoother.” 

‘I What things?” inquired Eavensbird, opening his eyes. 

Well, I should think that you and your master are the 
only two in this Castle who can’t see, who have got no sight 
for what’s going on!” uttered Sophie, somewhat contemptu- 
ously. You think my Lady Adelaide will marry your mas- 
ter; he thinks so. Bah!” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


13 


“ What is now upr^^ inquired Eavensbird. “ What do you 
niean?^' 

There is nothing up that there has not been all along/^ 
imperturbably rejoined Sophie, “ but you have not got any 
eyes, and he has not got any wits. My lady^s a flirt, she^s 
vain, and she just lives in admiration; but she has got one in 
the corner of her heart that is more to her than your master 
and all his gold — more to her than the whole world. And she 
had him there long before your master came home, and upset 
things by wanting her for himself 

Exceedingly astonished looked Richard Ravensbird. 

I don’t know what you are driving at, Sophie,” he said. 

If she has got her heart fixed on somebody else, and is palm- 
ing otf false smiles upon my master, she’s a worthless jilt.” 

'‘We can’t control our likings,” returned Sophie; “and 
her heart was given, I say, before the captain ever came here. 
But Lady Dane began to suspect that there was more between 
them than there ought to be, considering he was poor; and my 
young lady got frightened lest they should be separated, and 
he, or she, sent away. So, when the captain came forward 
with his love and his grand offers, she made a show of accept- 
ing him, just to gain time; but, bless you, it was nothing but 
to blind my Lady Dane, and throw her off the scent. She’ll 
never marry him; she loves the other too well.” 

“ Sophie, tell me who you are speaMng of? Squire Les- 
ter?” 

“ Bah! Squire Lester! She likes his gallant speeches and 
his flattery of her beauty, but what else cares she for Squire 
Lester? I speak of Herbert Dane. They are engaged in 
secret, and they love each other to folly.” 

Richard Ravensbird paused, and then, as past events crowded 
on his memory, bringing conviction of the truth of Sophie’s 
words, he broke into a low, prolonged whistle. 

“If this does not explain much that was dark to me! 
Sophie, I have wondered to see them so often together in 
secret. I have seen them walking together on a moonlight 
night. But I never gave a thought to the true cause. I 
deemed her childish, wild, fond of laughter and of liberty.” 

“ That is their hour of meeting. When my Lady Dane and 
Lady Adelaide leave the dinner-table, my lord and the captain 
remain. Then my Lady Dane falls asleep in her chair, and 
sh^ steals out in her gray cloak, and meets him; and they walk 
about for ten or twenty minutes,.as long as she thinks she dares 
stay. Bah! mv young lady need not flatter herself I have had 
my eyes shut. ” 


14 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


I have seen them go to the ruins.” 

Sophie nodded. 

“ It’s their favorite walk. Once at the old chapel they can 
shield themselves from the curious, and pace about at leisure 
under cover of its walls. ” 

“ They are a couple of treacherous serpents!” exclaimed 
Mr. Kavensbird, in a heat. 

Sophie laughed. 

“ You English say that all things are fair in love and war. 
One wise noodle will exclaim, ‘ Why does not that Mr. Her- 
bert be off to the wars, or to travel, or to amuse himself, as 
other young men of quality do?’ And another says, ‘ What 
does he stop, moping at Danesheld for? why not he go else- 
where and try for a place under Government, or do something 
to amend his fortunes?’ And I have smiled to myself to hear 
them, and wondered they did not look at Lady Adelaide, and 
see the cause. ” 

“ Sophie, it is treacherous, treacherous toward Captain 
Dane!” exclaimed Kavensbird, in excitement. “He is hon- 
orable and unsuspicious; and those are the natures that get 
played upon! He ought to be told: he ought to be enlight- 
ened; if nobody else does it, I will.” 

“ My friend,” said she, gently, “ you just take my advice, 
for it’s good; donH you interfere. Folks that tell unpalatable 
truths never get thanked. Let them battle it out for them- 
selves; let things take their course. Captain Dane can not 
remain blind long; something or other, rely upon it, will turn 
up to open his eyes, and then Lady Adelaide must answer for 
herself, and choose between them. But don’t you go and 
break your head against a wall.” 

The man-servant was silent. He sat stroking his chin — a 
habit of his when in deep thought. 

“ Sophie,” he presently said, “ are you sure you are not 
mistaken? It does seem incredible that a high-born lady 
should behave so.” 

Sophie tossed her head and laughed at his simplicity. 

“As if there were any difference between high-born and 
low-born in such matters as these! My Lady Adelaide’s a 
deal less prudent than many a poor girl who has to work for 
her bread. She means no harm,” added Sophie, emphatically; 
“ she’s not the one to run into real harm, but she is as flighty 
a young Scotch girl as ever ran wild on the heather: her 
spirits are high, and she’s thoughtless and young.” 

“ How came she to be living here?” resumed Mr. Kavens- 
bii’d. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


15 


How came she? why, don-’fc yon. know?''’ returned Sophie, 
in her quick, impetuous way. “Her mother, the Countess of 
Kirkdale, was Lady Dane’s sister. She was a widow, and 
when she died. Lady Adelaide came here for a home. She 
has no other; her brother, the young earl, a wild harum- 
scarum chap, stops on the Continent; he is hero, he is there, 
he is everywhere. Ah! it was a sad position: there she was 
left motherless and homeless, with barely enough income to 
supply herself with decent clothes. But for Lady Dane, I 
don’t know what she would have done. She was seventeen 
then, and I came here with her: I had been maid to the 
countess. ” 

“ I thought those well-born young ladies alvvays had some 
fortune. 

“ She hadn’t. When her father and mother married he 
was a younger son — as you call it in England, and there were 
no settlements made: for a very good reason* because there 
was nothing to settle. He became the earl afterward, but he 
was the poorest man in the Scottish peerage.” 

“ So they are all three cousins!” exclaimed Mr. Ravens- 
bird. 

“ Who? what three?” returned Sophie. 

“ Lady Adelaide and my master and Herbert Dane.” 

“ Lady Adelaide and your master are; but you can’t call 
her cousin to Mr. Herbert. They are-— what’s your word for 
it? — connections; nothing more.” 

Richard Ravensbird made no reply. He was boiling over 
with indignation at the duplicity practiced on his master, to 
whom he was much attached. He was a man cool and 
phlegmatic in general manner, but capable of being aroused 
to gusts of fierce passion — and in that respect he and Captain 
Dane were alike. 

“ If you don’t believe me,” cried Sophie, fancying he was 
still incredulous, “ go and hide yourself in the ruins to-night, 
and watch them.” 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE QUAKKEL. — THE LADY’s SHRIEKS. 

Whether in compliance with the suggestion of the French 
maid, or whether in the gratification of his own curiosity, cer- 
tain it is that Richard Ravensbird did determine that night to 
watch the ruins. 

His master was dining on board the yacht, and Squire 


16 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Lester made the fourth at the dinner-table. Lord Dane 
could sit at table and enjoy his dinner as much as any one. 
To see him seated there, with the full use of his hands and 
arms and mouth and speech, no stranger would have suspect- 
ed tliat he was held upright through mechanical support, or 
that his legs, covered up under the table, were powerless. He 
retained all his mental faculties; and he had ever been a man 
of brilliant intellect. 

Kichard Ravensbird had no service to render in the dining- 
room, and when once he had assisted his master to dress for 
dinner, his evenings were mostly at his own command, to 
sj^end at he liked; this evening his movements were entirely 
unfettered. 

The time seemed to drag on with weary wings; he was 
impatient, and just before the hour, when he expected the 
ladies would be quitting the dinner-table, he put on his hat 
and went out. He stood for some moments outside the gates 
and waited, gazing at the scene. Before him stretched the 
green table-land, the sea beyond it; standing, however, where 
he did, he could not see much of the sea. He was too low; 
on the right were the scattered villas, and the lights of Danes- 
held beyond them, and on the left the most conspicuous point 
visible was the old ruin. It was a fine, calm, moonlight 
night, and there was something ghostly and weird-looking in 
the ivied walls and glassless windows, as the moon shone on 
them. He stepped softly over the grass to the left in a slant- 
ing direction, and soon came to the ruins. 

He went inside the door and looked about him — or rather 
in at the aperture where a door once had been. Grass was 
growing in places; an ancient grave-stone or two, cold and 
gray, covered the remains of those who had for centuries been 
dust of the dust; and, at one end, part of the marble fiooring 
was left still. Traces of niches and nooks, and of little 
chapels or altars, after the manner peculiar to the Roman 
Catholic places of worship, might be seen: altogether, these 
old chapel ruins would afford pleasure to the antiquary, and 
to those minds given to speculative romance. 

Richard Ravensbird, however, had notlung of the anti- 
quary about him, or of romance either; few men less; he was 
constituted of hard, practical reality. He looked keenly around 
in the nooks and corners, satisfied himself with pretty good 
certainty that no interlopers were lurking there, and then he 
crossed the open building and emerged by the opposite door, 
which brought him out on the heights within a few yards of 
their brow. He walked over those few yards, and stood look- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


17 


ing down at the sea underneath; he was not so much above it 
there as he would liave been in some other parts, for the 
chapel lay rather in a dell. Close under the rocks was a nar- 
row strip of beach, extending for some miles on either side; 
when the tide was at its height, for about two hours this 
beach would be covered with the water, but at other times the 
preventive-men paced it — for tales were told, and believed, 
of smugglers’ work being done there. 

These preventive-men had each his marked beat, extending 
about a mile in length; and their pacings were so timed (or 
ought to be) that tliey met at the given boundary at a certain 
moment, exchanged the signal “ All right,” and then turned 
away again. Scandal- mongers said that they sometimes 
lingered in each other’s company at these meeting-points 
longer than they ought to have done, took their seats under 
the friendly shelter ,pf the rocks, produced pipes and a sub- 
stantial black bottle from their j^ockets, and made themselves 
comfortable. The supervisor heard the rumor, and said they 
had better let him catch them at it. 

A sad event had occurred the week before. The man on this 
particular beat, underneath the chapel, fell asleep, as was 
supposed, on his post, and the tide overwhelmed him, and 
carried him out to sea. The body was washed ashore the next 
day, and a subscription was now being raised for the widow 
and children. Lord Lane having headed it with five pounds. 

As Havensbird stood looking down, the preventive-man on 
duty that night came slowly round the point where the rocks 
projected, shutting out the view beyond. Kavensbird called 
to him. 

‘‘ Is it you, Mitchelr” 

The man looked up. He could not distinguish who was 
speaking. . 

‘‘ Don’t you know my voice, Mitchel? Take care you don’t 
go to sleep, as poor Biggs did.” 

“ Oh, it’s you, Mr. Kavensbird. No, sir. I’ll take care of 
that. We think it’s just about in this very spot as he must 
have sat down anJ yielded to drowsiness — if he did yield to it. 
We have been talking pretty freely among ourselves since lie 
died, a-saying the nonsense it is to make us pace this strip of 
beach; why, in some places it’s not a foot broad that we h^-ve 
to wind round; and some of us think he’s just as likely to 
have slipped ofC, and got drowned that way, as to have 
dropped asleep.” 

If you can make the supervisors think it’s nonsense, and 
take you olf the duty, the smugglers will be obliged to you.” 


18 


LADY ADELAIDL^S OATH. 


“ Not at all, sir. We could be moved on to the heights up 
there, and keep quite as good a lookout. Better, I think; 
and there we should be out of danger. 

“ You must be very timorous men to fancy there^s danger 
down there. A child might keep himself from it. 

“ Being on the watch constant, perhaps he might; but one 
gets off the watch sometimes.^'’ 

‘‘ Thanks to what you take to warm you on a chilly night, 
laughed Kavensbird. 

“ No, indeed, sir, you are out there; we take nothing, and 
daren’t; it would be as much as our places were worth. But 
when a comrade gets drowned, all in a half hour, one can’t 
tell for certain how or why, it puts us up to think that what 
has happened to him might happen to us. I say, sir, don’t 
you lean over so far: it makes mo twitter to see you. You 
might be took with giddiness.” 

‘‘ I am all right; my brain is strong, and my nerves are 
steady. I like looking down from heights. ” 

It’s more than I do,” returned the man. ‘‘ And that 
would be a nasty fall. It might take life; and it would be 
sure to break limbs.” 

“ I don’t covet the fall. Good-night, if you are progressing 
onward.” 

The preventive-man passed on, and Richard Ravensbird 
turned round and walked to the chapel again. During his 
colloquy with the officer, he had kept a continual lookout in 
the direction of the Castle, but had seen no signs of any ap- 
proach. He took his station in the chapel, in one of its gray, 
dark corners, near to a window-aperture; and scarcely had 
he looked again when he saw some one sauntering slowly to- 
ward it, whom he soon recognized to be Herbert Dane. 

“ Then Sophie is right?” he muttered. 

Mr. Dane came up, whistling, leaned against the ivy that 
trailed round the door-way and looked back the road he had 
come, whistling still. Ravensbird likewise continued to look, 
for he was sheltered from observation. 

Presently, a light figure, swift of foot, and enveloped in a 
gray cloak, came running along. The hood was drawn over 
her head, and but for her voice the servant would not have 
known her for Lady Adelaide. Mr. Dane threw back the 
hood, clasped her in his arms, and laid her pretty face upon 
his shoulder. The indignant servant nearly groaned. 

‘‘My darling Adelaide!” 

“I was quite determined to come to-night; and, see what a 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 19 

lovely niffht it is! But we were later than usual at the dinner- 
table.'’^ 

“ Is the gallant captain at home?” 

“ Not he. He is dining on board some yacht that is in the 
bay. Squire Lester is dining with us. Herbert, between all 
iny admirers, I think I shall go deranged. I have pretty 
trouble to stave off attacks; the squire is growing demonstra- 
tive now. ” 

She laughed merrily as she spoke, and Herbert Dane held 
her closer. 

“ The squire ^s nobody, Adelaide; he may be kept at arm^s 
length, or summarily dismissed. The one I fear is nearer 
home.^^ 

“ You need not fear,-” she impulsively answered. “ I hate 
and despise him; he may be a man that men esteem and 
women admire; but because he has set his love on me, I hate 
him.” 

“ He is the Honorable William Dane, and his purse is full,” 
was the bitter answer. “ No mean rival.” 

“ Oh, Herbert, my dearest, why will you torment yourself? 
Don’t I tell you — have I not repeatedly told you — that I only 
care for you, and that nothing, in the earth or above it, shall 
tea^r me from you? I will never marry but you. I am 
obliged to appear to tolerate him : I even give him gracious 
marks of favor to keep him in good humor, but you know 
why I do this. I dare not let my aunt suspect tliat I care for 
you; I am obliged to let her think I shall marry him. We 
should be separated forever; forever, Herbert.” 

‘‘ Things can not go on long as they are going on now. He 
will insist upon an explanation with you. Stave it off as you 
will, it must come. ” 

“ Yes, I know it must come.” 

“ And what then — when it does?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” she carelessly replied. “Let us 
throw worry to the winds, and leave the./uture to the future. 
Some one may have left you a fortune by that time, Herbert,” 
she merrily added. 

“Ah, that they would! that I might claim my darling 
Adelaide!” 

“ Why do you come so seldom now to the Castle? I don’t 
know when you have been there before to-day. ” 

“ Because I can not contain myself,” he answered, with 
emotion; “ or I fear I can not. When I see him paying you 
attentions as a matter of course, as though he mile sure of 
you, my hands tingle to knock him down.” 


20 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


‘‘ I wish he was in that sea!^’ uttered Lady Adelaide. 

Heedless words. Spoken not in wickedness, but in her 
careless impetuosity. Herbert Dane laughed, as if he would 
welcome the fact with all the pleasure in life. And Kichard 
Kavensbird, from his hiding-nook, threw up his hands mena- 
cingly toward Herbert Dane, as though they tingled to put^ 
him in it instead. 

Mr. Dane and Lady Adelaide moved from the entrance, and 
began to pace slowly round and round the chapel, outside, 
conversing confidentially, she drawn close to his side. It was 
their general walk when they met there; keeping close to the 
dark ivied walls, their presence and movements could not be 
detected from a distance, should there be any night stragglers 
about. Eichard Eavensbird caught a sentence now and then, 
sufficient to hear that their themes of conversation were their 
own mutual affection, their plans for the future, and mocking 
ridicule of the credulity of the Honorable Captain Dane. His 
blood bubbled up to boiling heat, as it had done in the inter- 
view with Sophie; but he had no resource but to force it down 
to calmness. 

They lingered together for about a quarter of an hour, 
pacing round continually, and then Lady Adelaide, enveloping 
her head once more in the hood, flew back alone, to the Castle. 
Mr. Dane leaned against the ivy, and watched her to it, as he 
had watched her come. Prudence suggested that she should go 
alone. That the Lady Adelaide, giddy girl, should trip out 
in the moonlight within the precincts of the Castle, might be 
thought nothing of, did any prying eye observe her; but for 
her to trip out with Mr. Herbert Dane would have set eyes 
speculating and tongues talking. Next, when she was fairly 
in, Mr. Herbert Dane sauntered away, and he was followed, 
after awhile, by Eichard Eavensbird. The latter had decided 
on his line of conduct; for he was a man given to form plans 
with prompt decision, and to execute them firmly. 

The following morning, Lady Dane, her son, and Adelaide, 
met at breakfast; Lord Dane never rose so early. Adelaide 
was dressed in a flowing muslin robe, whose prevailing tint 
was peach color, while lace open sleeves shaded her wrists, 
matching her lace collar; her cheeks were flushed, her blue 
eyes were bright, and her auburn hair gleamed in the morning 
sun. 

“ You were home late last night, Harry, were you not?’^ 
Lady Dane observed to her son. 

“ Eather so/" he replied. ‘‘ It was past twelve, I tliink. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 21 

Moncton and I got talking over old days, and the time slipped 
avvay.^^ 

“ I suppose the yacht leaves this morning: or has left.-^^ 

“ Not until to-night. Her captain found out something 
wrong in her, some trifling damage to be repaired, which was 
the reason he put into the bay; and they could not get it com- 
pleted yesterday, so they don^t leave till evening. 

Lady Adelaide looked up. 

“ Colonel Moncton will be here, then, to-day? 

“ Very probably. He gave me a half promise last night 
that he would come for his introduction. I know you will 
like him, Adelaide. And he is looking forward to the future 
pleasure of welcoming you to his own home.^^ 

She tossed back her pretty head somewhat defiantly. 

“ I don^t know about liking him. Many of your friends, 
whom you .praise up to the skies, I don^t like at all. Captain 
Daue.^^ 

“ Captain Dane!^^ he echoed; and there was a pained irri- 
tation in his voice, reproachful tenderness in his glance. 

“ ‘ Harry,^ then,^’ she good-humoredly rejoined, for Lady 
Dane had turned her disapproving eye upon her, ‘‘ if you are 
ashamed of the other name/^ 

“ Not ashamed of it, Adelaide; but I like a different one 
from you. 

“ Ob, dear!’^ sighed Adelaide, half laughing, half in petu- 
lance, as she threw herself back in her chair. “ How crooked 
and contrary things do go in this world 

“ What goes crooked with you, Adelaide?^^ asked Lady 
Dane. 

“ Oh, I don^t know, aunt. Plenty of things. Sophie was 
as cross as two sticks this morning; and my little canary is 
ill.^^ 

“ Grave sources of discomfort,^^ said Captain Dane, with a 
smile; “ but scarcely sufficient to make you unhappy, Ade- 
laide. 

Do you dine on board the yacht again to-night?^ ^ was all 
her rejoinder. 

I shall get Moncton to dine here, if I can,^^ was his reply, 

‘‘ should it not interfere with his sailing. But I expect they 
will be putting to sea about that time.^^ 

“ At what hour does the tide serve?" asked Lady Dane. 

‘‘ High tide at ten to-night. They’ll be off by nine, I dare 
say. Adelaide, would you like to go on board and inspect 
her? she is a beautiful little thing, and Moncton would be so 
pleased to welcome you. " 


22 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


She gently shook her head. 

“ No, thank you, Harry; I don’t care for yachts. But I 
shall be glad to make the acquaintance of Colonel Moncton, 
should you bring him here. ’’ 

As Captain Dane was quitting the room after breakfast, his 
servant accosted him: 

“ Could you allow me to speak to you for a few minutes, 
sir?” 

“ What about?” asked Captain Dane, feeling a sort of 
surprise. 

I wanted to say a few words upon a matter personal to 
yourself, sir. ” 

“ Very well. I am going to my room to write letters: you 
can come now.” 

They proceeded to the captain’s apartment. Ravensbird 
held the door open for his master to enter, and then followed 
him in; and the door was closed upon them. * 

Lady Dane rang the bell for the servants to clear away the 
breakfast things; and it was done. She then reached her 
prayer-book, and began reading to herself the morning psalms, 
as was her custom upon the conclusion of breakfast. Adelaide 
did not care to join in the exercise, and Lady Dane would not 
press it; she was wise enough to know that none can be 
forced into religion. It must come spontaneously, of their 
own conviction, their right feeling; and she hoped it would in 
time come to Adelaide. She sat in her easy-chair, near the 
fire; Adelaide stood behind her, looking from the window. 

It was one of those warm, balmy, b^rilliant mornings that 
we sonie times get in early spring. The sky was blue, the sun 
was shining, the hedges were putting forth their green, and 
the spring flowers were opening. But not at any of these, 
pleasant objects though they were, gazed Lady Adelaide; 
genial sun, the calm sky, the shooting hedges, and the 
smiling flowers were as nothing to her: she did not cast a 
thought to the blue expanse of sea, stretched out in the 
distance, or to its stately vessels sailing along; she did not 
heed the cheerful villas near, or the busy laborers at work on 
the farm-lands; no; her attention was fixed on something else. 

Astride upon the very gate where you saw him yesterday, 
was Herbert Dane. He might often be seen there: was it so 
favored by him because it was in full view of the Castle win- 
^ beautiful face which was wont to appear at 
them. He had discarded the fishing-rod of yesterday, but he 
held in his hand a silver-mounted riding-whip, with which he 
kept switching, first his own boots, then the bars of the gate. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


23 


Think you Adelaide Errol could see any other object, with 
him in view? As she appeared at the window, he raised his 
hat, though so far away; a stranger would have seen nothing 
in the act but the ordinary courtesy of a gentleman; Adelaide 
probably saw much, and imagined more. 

How long she stood there, looking, she could not have told, 
for she was taking no heed of the time; ten minutes it may 
have been. And then she was abruptly startled, as in fact 
was the whole Castle, by unusual sounds of anger and conten- 
tion on the corridor above. Lady Dane started from her 
chair in alarm, and Adelaide sprung to the door and pulled it 
open. 

Captain Dane and his servant, Ravensbird, were quarreling 
— quarreling as it appeared, for the voices of both were raised 
in a fierce passion. Both seemed in violent anger, in uncon- 
trollable excitement; the captain was red with fury, the ser- 
vant was livid; and just as Lady Dane and Adelaide appeared, 
the captain pushed the man to the top of the stairs, and kicked 
him down them. 

Ravensbird stumbled as he got to the foot, where stood the 
ladies. He took no notice of them, but he turned round, 
looked up defiantly at his master, and raised his clinched fist. 

“Take care of yourself. Captain Dane,^^ he hissed. “I 
shall never lose sight of this insult until I have repaid it.^^ 

“ Good heavens, Henry I'’ ^ uttered Lady Dane, in agitation, 
as the man disappeared down the lower stairs, “ what is this 
about? what has he done ?^' 

“ Never mind, mother; he won^t trouble the peace of the 
Castle a second time. I have dismissed him. 

“ But what had he done?^^ 

“ The wicked hound!'' burst forth Captain Dane. “He 
would have traduced one who was dear to me." 

Richard Ravensbird was already outside the gates of the 
Castle, first ordering one of the wondering footmen to send 
his clothes and other property after him. As he passed Her- 
bert Dane, who was still astride on the gate, the latter was 
struck with the ghastly, enraged look of his face. 

“ What's up, Ravensbird?" he hastily asked. 

The man stopped, and answered, giving each word its full 
force. 

“ I have been kicked out of the Castle, sir." 

“ Kicked out of the castle!" repeated Herbert, in astonish- 
ment. “ By whom? Not by its lord?" he added, with an 
attempt at a joke. 

“ I have been ignominously kicked down-stairs in the sight 


24 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

of Lady Dane, and ordered out of the Castle. lie who did it 
was my master. But let him look to himself. Ihere^ are 
some insults, sir, that can only be wiped out by revenge, lliis 
is one." 

‘‘ And what on earth was it for? How liad you offended 
him?" reiterated Herbert. 

“ I was endeavoring to do aim good, to serve him; and my 
friendly words— friendly 1 meant them to be — were taken up 
in a wrong light. Let him take heed to himself, I say. " 

Eavensbird strode on, and Herbert Dane watched him, be- 
ginning again gently to switch the little whip, which, since 
Ihivensbird's approach, had been still. 

“ A queer customer to offend, he looks just now," quoth 
he. What a livid face of anger it was! I tliink Mr. Harry 
had better take heed to himself. " 

Nothing more came out as to the cause of the squabble in 
the Castle. Lord Dane, to whose ears the noise had penetrated, 
summoned his son, but the latter would enter into no details. 
Kavensbird liad behaved infamously, and he had given him his 
merits, was all that could be got from Captain Dane. 

Colonel Moncton came up in the course of the morning, 
and paid a short visit. He was introduced to Lord and Lady 
Dane and Adelaide, and then he and Captain Dane went out 
together. Adelaide watched them from the windows; they 
were strolling about arm-in-arm. She saw them go inside the 
ruins of the chapel; she saw them standing on the heights 
and looking down ^t the strip of beach and the sea under- 
neath; it appeared that Captain Dane was pointing out the 
features of the locality to his friend. The colonel had de- 
clined the invitation to dinner; they should be getting away, 
he said; but he asked Captain Dane to dine with him on board 
the “ Pearl " instead, and the promise was given. 

Somewhat, then, to the surprise of Lord and Lady Dane, 
when they assembled in the dining-room at seven o'clock. 
Captain Dane entered, and sat down with them. 

“ How is this, Harry?" inquired his father. ‘‘ I thought 
we were not to have your company this evening. Is the 
‘ Pearl ' gone?" 

“ I changed my mind about going, and have dispatched an 
apology to Moncton." 

The answer was delivered in a short, cold tone, as if the 
speaker did not care to be questioned. 

Lord Dane looked at his son keenly; he thought something 
had occurred to annoy him. 


LADY ABELAID-R^S OATH. 25 

You are letting that affair with Eavensbird vex yon, Har- 
ry,^^ said he. 

It has vexed me, veiy much indeed. 

“ Harry, you must take care of that man,^^ observed Lady 
Adelaide. I hear he vows vengeance against you.^^ 

Captain Dane smiled contemptuously. 

‘^How do you know that, Adelaide:^^ asked Lord Dane. 
And the question — or the having to answer it — brought a 
pretty blush to her face. 

“ I met Herbert Dane wLen I was out this afternoon, and 
he said Eavensbird had passed him on his way from the Cas- 
tle, uttering threats of revenge, she replied. “ Herbert said 
he would not care to have Eavensbird for an enemy; he 
thought he could be a powerful one. 

A ;peculiar smile of anger, mixed with irony, flitted over 
Captain Dane^s face. 

* If I have no more formidable enemy than Eavensbird, I 
shall not hurt,^^ he sarcastically uttered. 

After that, he relapsed into silence and, when addressed, 
answered only in monosyllables. Nearly everything put be- 
fore him he sent away untasted; there could be no doubt that 
he was smarting from some inward annoyance or vexation. 

Lady Dane and Adelaide quitted the dining-room, leaving 
the two gentlemen together. The former hoped that Lord 
Dane would succeed in drawing from Harry what was amiss. 
Harry was her favorite son, and it pained her to see him like 
this. She took her easy-chair, sat down in it before the fire;' 
and, in thinking over matters, dropped into her usual after- 
dinner sleep. 

Then came the turn of Lady Adelaide — the moment for* 
her stealing out of the ruins; yet she was not sure that night, 
of meeting Herbert, 'for he had told her in the day he did not 
think he should be able to visit them. She loved him far too 
much, however, not to run the chance, and with quiet move- 
ments and stealthy treads, she glides down the staircase, seized 
the old gray cloak from its hanging nook, threw it on, stole 
out at a side door, and across the grass. Very quickly went 
she, for she was late: if Lady Dane had been one minute drop- 
ping off to sleep that night, she had been five-and-twenty. 

Into a very comfortable sleep, however, had Lady Dane 
dropped. And longer would she have continued to enjoy it, 
but that she was abruptly aroused. A sound of shrieks from 
the direction of the ruins broke suddenly forth on the still 
night air, so loud, so terrific that they disturbed even the 
sleeping Lady Dane. She rubbed her eyes, she listened, she 


2(5 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

raised her ear: and then she darted to the window and threw 
it open. 

In the clear, bright moonlight might be discerned a form 
speeding toward the castle from the ruins — a gray form, en- 
veloped in a cloak, or other shrouding garment, and uttering 
shriek upon shriek. 

Lady Dane heard the servants, whose ears had likewise 
caught the ominous sounds, rushing to the great gates, and in 
her consternation she sped thither also. The warm flood of 
gas from the gateway-lamp threw its light upon the entrance, 
and into that light, shrieking still, darted the gray form— that 
of Lady Adelaide Errol. She fell into violent hysterics as 
they caught her in their arms. 


CHAPTER HI. 

THE FALL FEOM THE CLIFF. 

They bore Lady Adelaide into the hall — a spacious room, 
hung round with pictures, which opened from the left-hand 
side of the great gateway. On that side, on the ground-floor, 
there were but two apartments, the hall and the dining-room. 
At the back of the hall a handsome staircase wound up to the 
floor above, and near the foot of the staircase a door opened 
to some back passages, which led round to the kitchens, and 
the apartments of the servants, on the other side the gateway. 

Adelaide was shrieking still, sobbing and crying in strong 
hysterics; she was evidently under the influence of some pow- 
erful terror. The servants put her into a large arm-chair, 
took off her cloak, and ran for water and for smelling-salts; 
Lady Dane chafed her hands, and somewhat angrily demand- 
ed of her what had happened, and where she had been. 

Lord Dane was in the dining-room, alone. He pulled 
sharply the silken string tied to his chair and attached to the 
bell-rope, and when Brufl, the butler, answered it, inquired 
haughtily what all that unseeml}’’ noise meant. 

“ My lord, it is Lady Adelaide. She seems to be taken ill.^^ 

“ Lady Adelaide shrieking like that! What brings her 
down in the hallr^’ 

“ She was outside, my lord, as it appears. We heard the 
screams, and went to the gate, and Lady Adelaide came fly- 
ing in from across the grass. I should think she must have 
been frightened in some way, my lord.^^ 

“ I never heard of such an improbable thing!^^ ejaculated 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 27 

Lord Dane. “ Lady Adelaide out at this hour! it is not 
likely!” 

The butler was too wise to maintain his assertion. 

“ My lady is with her/^ he said. “ She heard the cries too, 
and came down. ” 

“ Undo this/^ cried Lord Dane. 

He meant the silk ribbon attached to his chair. The butler 
obeyed him, and Lord Dane, touching the spring, the chair 
propelled itself into the hall, for it v^as one of those invalid- * 
chairs running upon wheels, so useful to helpless persons. 

Lord Dane took himself and his chair immediately opposite 
to Adelaide. There he stopped. He saw that her breath was 
labored, that her whole frame trembled, and that she was as 
white as death; but she was not screaming now. 

“ What is all this?” he inquired, looking first at her, and 
then at his wife. “ Have you been frightened, Adelaide?” 

The question threw her into hysterics again; and Lord Dane 
turned for an answer to his wife. 

‘‘I know nothing about it,” said Lady Dane. “I \vas 
dozing in the drawing-room, and was awakened by screams, 
outside. I put up the window, and saw some one running 
from the direction of the ruins, shrieking awfully. It proved 
to be Adelaide.” 

‘‘ But what brought Adelaide out there?” 

“ That is what I want to learn. When I dozed off, she was 
sitting quietly in the drawing-room, reading. 

‘‘ My dear, what took you out?” inquired Lord Dane, when 
she grew quiet. 

She shook terribly as she answered him: 

‘‘ I — I donT know.” 

“ But you must know,” reiterated Lady Dane, ‘‘ you could 
not have walked out in your sleep. What took you out?” 

Adelaide's very teeth shook as she answered the question, 
and she turned, if possible, more deadly white. But she 
pressed her two hands for full a minute upon her forehead be- 
fore she spoke. 

“ I don^t know what made me go out,” she faltered; “ it 
was very foolish. In looking from the drawing-room window, 

I observed what a lovely night it was, nearly as light as day, 
and the thought came over me that I would put on my cloak 
and run as far as the ruins and back. I meant no harm.” 

“ The most senseless thing I ever heard of! such a wild- 
goose trick, sure, was never performed,” exclaimed Lady 
Dane. “ Had any one told me but yourself^ I could not have 
believed it. ” 


28 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Adelaide did not care for that; her aunt might call her 
senseless, and a “ wild goose ” for an hour, if she pleased; but 
what she did care for, and dread, were the keen eyes of Lord 
Dane, fixed penetratingly upon her. She saw he did not be- 
lieve her fully. 

Let that pass," he said, as if answering his own thoughts. 
“ What caused you to scream?" 

Oil — I can not tell," she answered, clasping her hands 
in agony. 

‘‘ Did any one accost you?" proceeded Lord Dane. 

“ No, no," she answered, eagerly. “ I — I — I think I got 
frightened at finding myself all alone by moonlight in those 
chapel-ruins, where the graves are." 

‘^And so you ran home, shrieking, thinking a ghost was 
after you?" cried Lord Dane, who readily accepted the ver- 
sion. 

‘‘ Y^es, I suppose so." 

As Adelaide spoke the hesitating answer, she happened to 
catch the look of her maid, Sophie. Most strangely and earn- 
estly was the woman's gaze fixed upon her, almost, as it 
seemed, in terror. Adelaide shuddered, and once more hid 
her face in her hands. 

“ I hope it will be a warning to you, my dear," said Lord 
Dane, “ not to attempt a moonlight escapade again. You 
might meet a real ghost another time — or something worse. " 

“And you can not say but you would deserve it," added 
Lady Dane, crossly. “ You are as flighty as your brother. 
The best thing you can do now is to go to bed. " 

“Oh, no, no, pray no!" eagerly returned Adelaide. “I 
am not ill; I am not frightened now. I would rather sit up.'’' 

She looked both frightened and ill, but it was not urged. 
Lady Dane put her head in at the dining-room door. 

“ I wonder you can remain contented there, through all this 
noise, Harry," she cried. “ Is he asleep?" 

“ Harry's not there," said Lord Dane. “ He went out." 

“ Oh. Down to the yacht, probably, to see his friend off." 

“ I fancy so." 

Lord Dane retired to the dining-room; he never appeared 
m the drawing-room at night. The two ladies went upstairs, 
and the servants dispersed. But a sudden freak — or whatever 
you may please to term it— took Lady Dane." 

“ You have made me quite nervous, Adelaide, with your 
shrieks and your absurdity," she exclaimed. “ I should feel 
more comfortable with Lord Dane than up here." And, 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 29 

ringing the bell, she ordered the tea taken into the dining- 
room. So they both went down again. 

Now, somewhere about the time that Lady Adelaide's cries 
were first heard, Mitchel, the preventive-man, to whom 
Ravensbird had spoken the previous evening, was again near- 
ing the same spot, in pursuance of his duty. As he turned 
round the ledge of rock, which there projected so far as to 
leave scarcely a foot of ground to walk upon, he heard angry 
voices on the heights, close to the ruins of the chapel. The 
man naturally loo&d up to whence they proceeded, and there, 
in the bright moonlight, he perceived, or thought he per- 
ceived, two men scuffling together at the edge of the cliff, as 
in a deadly struggle. The next moment one fell, or was pro- 
pelled over the cliff, and awful shrieks from the chapel, or 
near it, broke out upon^the night air. 

For an instant Mitchel stood in dismay, in fear, his heart 
leaping into his mouth. As may have been gathered from 
his conversation with Ravensbird, he was not a particularly 
brave man: few men, permanently weak in health, are so. 
Mitchel, though he managed to keep up and go about his du- 
ties, was always ailing, and earlier in life he had been subject 
to epileptic fits. He drew near to the fallen, prostrate man, 
in tremor and dread, expecting to see him lifeless. 

Lifeless he appeared to be. The face was upturned to the 
moonlight, the eyes were closed, the skin looked blue and 
ghastly, and the mouth was 023en. MitcheTs terror and dis- 
may were not lessened when he recognized the features; for 
they were those of the Honorable William Henry Dane. 

The man was perfectly ignorant of what it would be best to 
do. He shouted out at the top of the heights for help, but 
there was no answer: little fear that the murderer — whether 
one in intention or by accident — would answer him. He then 
took off his coat, laid it under Captain Dane's head, rubbed 
his hands, and rubbed his heart. 

But Captain Dane, poor fellow, never moved, or gave the 
faintest signs of life. Mitchel felt that he was dead: and — 
what was 7ie to do? The body must be got away, for in an 
hour's time the tide would be up: and indeed this had been 
Mitchel's last turn before going off duty, until the tide was 
gone again. 

He pushed the hair from the clammy brow. The face was 
not injured in falling; he lifted one of the hands, but it fell 
dead again. And then Mitchel turned, and tore away at a 
break-neck speed, expecting to meet his comraxie on the next 
boundary. 


30 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


But he did not: whether the man had stolen a march upon 
time, and gone oif too early, or whether he might have been 
seated under the rocks, and had suffered Mitchel to pass him, 
the latter could not tell. All he had to do was to tear on 
again at the same speed, and gain what they called the coast- 
guard station. 

The coast-guard station was a low building; in outward ap- 
pearance for all the world like a barn. Inside, it consisted of 
two rooms and a sleeping closet. And on this night, sitting 
round a blazing fire in the first room, to which the door 
opened, were a supervisor and three of his men. They were 
talking over the chief occurrence of the d^— which had been 
known from one end of Danesheld to the other in an hour's 
time after it happened; namely, the quarrel at the Castle be- 
tween Captain Dane and his servant,^ and the kicking of the 
man out. Never was there a more scandal-loving place than 
Danesheld. Exceedingly astonished were they to be inter- 
rupted by Mitchel. He burst in upon them, his hair standing 
on end, and his face in a white heat. 

‘‘ What's the matter with you?" exclaimed the supervisor, 
whose name was Cotton. 

Mitchel could not answer. His heart was beating wildly, 
as he never remembered it to have beaten before, and he laid 
his two hands upon it, and staggered against the wall. 


What brings you here?" 



continued Mr. Cotton, in wonderment. “ Can't you speak?" 

“ He's dead, he's dead," Mitchel at length panted. “ I 
want assistance." 

The supervisor stared, and the men turned round. 

“ Who is dead?" 

Mitchel opened his lips to answer, but no sound came. They 
sprung forward and caught him just in time to prevent his 
sinking to the ground. The fright of seeing Captain Dane 
fall, the excitement, or the running, or perhaps all combined, 
had brought on what he had not been troubled with for years 
— a fit. 

Of course they could make nothing of what he had said, 
about somebody's being dead and wanting assistance. The 
supervisor gave it as his opinion that he was only wandering 
in mind, the precursor of the illness. He sent one of the men 
out for a doctor. 

The latter, Mr. Wild, was not at home; he was gone to 
spend an hour with Mr. Apperly, so the man went there after 
him. Mr. Wild hastened to obey the summons, and Mr. Ap- 
perly, who was a solicitor, accompanied hini , 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


31 


“ What has brought this on?” demanded Mr. Wild of the 
supervisor, as he busied himself with Mitchel. ‘‘ I suspect he 
must have been excited or agitated, and in no measured de- 
gree. ” 

“ He rushed in here like one possessed,” was the super- 
visor’s answer. “ I never saw a man so agitated. His breath 
all panting, and his speech gone. ” 

“ Hid he give no explanation?” 

“ Nothing that one could make top or tail of. He splut- 
tered out some confused words about wanting assistance for 
somebody who was dead. I think his brains must have been 
moonstruck.” 

“ I don’t, then, sir,” spoke up one of the men. I think 
his agitation was caused by something real. Mitchel’s a 
quiet man, not given to drink, or to anything of that sort. 
Something extraordinary must have happened.” 

Whatever might have happened their only chance of coming 
to the solution of the mystery was by endeavoring to restore 
consciousness and speech to Mitchel: and this was effected in 
about an hour’s time. The man was raised from his recum- 
bent position, placed in a chair in front of the fire, and some 
refreshment given him to drink. 

“ Now, Mitchel,” began the doctor, “ let us have it out. 
What upset you like this?” 

Mitchel did not answer for a minute or two; he was proba- 
bly recalling his recollection. 

“ What’s the hour?” he suddenly asked. And the super- 
visor cast his eyes up to the clock. 

“ Getting on for ten.” 

Mitchel staggered up from his chair, but sunk down again. 
He was weak yet. 

“ Then it’s too late!” he uttered, in excitement, “ and his 
body will have been washed away. ” 

What is this mystery, Mitchel?” inquired Mr. Wild. 

‘‘ I’ll tell you, sir, as well as I’m able, but I don’t under- 
stand it myself,” was Mitchel’s answer. “I had just got 
around Eock Point, as we call it, when I saw a man thrown 
over the cliff. I ran up to succor him, but he was dead. ” 

‘‘ Thrown over the cliff!” was echoed by the bystanders. 
“ Prom the top down to the beach?” 

“ Pitched right over, he was. They were having words 
and scuffling together, whoever the ether was — and nobody 
need go far to guess at him, knowing what’s known.” 

“ AV’h)^ who were they? who was pitched over?” cried the 
doctor, impatiently. 


33 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATD. 


“ Captain Dane, sir/^ 

The name startled them all. Their thoughts had been 
cast to nothing more than some poor fisherman or smuggler; 
certainly not to. Lord Dane^s son. Mr. Apperly broke the 
silence. 

“ Do you say there was a scuffle between two people on the 
heights, and that Captain Dane was pushed over?"^ he asked, 
of Mitchel. 

“ As it seemed to me, sir. They were quarreling and strug- 
gling; and it is not likely Captain Dane would throw himself 
down. 

“ I fear, then, his assaulter must have been the servant, 
Eavensbird,^^ gravely observed Mr. Apperly. “ He has been 
heard uttering threats of revenge against Captain Dane to- 
day. 

“Hot the least doubt of that, sir,^^ returned Mitchel: 
“ who else would attack Captain Dane.^ But I never thought 
the man would have done such a thing. I didnT dislike fia- 
vensbird. But what’s to be done?” he added, in a more ener- 
getic tone. “ The tide will be safe to have carried away the 
body.” 

“Was he dead?” asked the surgeon, in a low tone. 

“ Stone dead, sir. It was that frighted me.” 

What was to be done, indeed? They might well ask it. A 
moment’s consultation and then they all, Mitchel and one of 
the men excepted, started off toward the spot, by way of the 
land: the beach they knew would be impassable from the tide. 

They laid their plans as they went along. Mr. Apperly and 
Mr. Wild would proceed to the Castle, and break the news to 
Lord Dane, and the rest would go on to the chapel and look 
down from the heights: they knew there was not the slightest 
possible chance that the body had not been carried out to sea, 
but it would be some consolation — to their curiosity, at any 
rate — to gaze down at the spot. 

“ I don’t like the task,” abruptly exclaimed the doctor, as 
they went along. “ The captain was the favorite son.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t,” returned Mr. Apperly. “ It has been 
occurring to me for the last few minutes that the better plan 
might be to call on Herbert Dane, and get him to break it to 
them.” 

The surgeon eagerly caught at it, and they turned off to the 
right to the house of Mr. Herbert Dane, and found him at 
home. He appeared to be making himself comfortable, had 
a sofa drawn before the fire, a cigar in his mouth, and some 
bottles and glasses on a table at his elbow. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


33 


“ Tl^s is your promised nine o’clock!” he called out, as 
they wer^ entering. “A pretty long while to keep a fellow 
waiting: it’s too bad, Harry. Oh! I beg your pardon,” he 
added, as his visitors advanced. “ I thought it was Captain 
Dane, whom I am expecting.” 

They did not take the offered chairs, but looked gravely at 
Herbert — as if hoping their grave looks might prepare him 
for what was to come. 

We have an unpleasant task to perform, Mr. Herbert 
Dane, and we have called on you, to request that you will help 
us out with it. We are on our way to the Castle, bearing evil 
tidings to Lord Dane. An accident has happened to his son.” 

Mr. Herbert Dane did not appear to t^ke in the ominous 
sound of the words; he was more intent on hospitality. He 
pushed aside the sofa, rang the bell for more glasses, and ex- 
tending his hand to turn the gas on brighter. Instead, how- 
ever, of turning it on, he — turned it out. 

“ A plague on my clumsiness! I am not used to the thing, 
and must have turned it the wrong way. The servant will be 
in in a minute, gentlemen; a cheery welcome, this, for you!” 

‘‘Mr. Herbert,” cried the surgeon, “you did not under- 
stand us. Never mind the gas. We came to inform you of a 
shocking event that has occurred to Captain Dane. ” 

“ To Captain Dane! What is it?” 

“He has fallen — or been thrown — over the cliff, by the 
chapel. There is little doubt that it has killed him.” 

Herbert Dane put down his cigar, and turned his dismayed 
face upon them. They noticed how pale it looked, as the 
fire-light shone upon him. 

“Fallen over the cliff!” he uttered. “When? How? 
When did it happen? I have been expecting him here since 
nine o’clock.” 

They told him all they knew, and asked him to break it to 
Lord Dane. He had rather not, himself, break it to him, he 
answered: Lord and Lady Dane had not been very cordial 
with him lately, and he should dread the effect of the com- 
munication <bn Lord Dane, coming from him. He would, 
however, go with them to the Castle, and join in consulting as 
to what was best to be done. “What will you take?” he 
asked. 

Tliey would prefer not to take anything. 

“ Had you not better?” he urged. “ Tidings such as these 
require support of some sort. Which of the preventive-men, 
do yon say, saw the affray?” 

“ Mitchel. A thousand pities that it should have been he. 

8 


34 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

Any otliGr of thG mGn would not liavG lost his sonsGs over it, 
and liGlp might havG rGached Captain Dane in timG,^n casG he 
was alivG. ThGrG is surG to be some untoward fatality attend- 
ing these cases 

Herbert Dane tossed his hair from his brow, and then leaned 
his forehead on his hand, his elbow on the mantel-piece. 
‘'Did Mitchel not distinguish the other on the cliff with 
Harry — with Captain Dane? — who it might be?^^ 

“ Fast enough, cried the lawyer, who was a quick, fiery 
little man. “ Who should it be, but the discharged man, 
Kavensbird?^^ 

“ Ah!^^ uttered Herbert Dane, a glow flashing into his pale 
countenance. “ I told Harry, when! met him this afternoon, 
to take care of him. 

“We are wasting time, Mr. Herbert, said the surgeon. 
“ Lord Dane must be informed of this.^^ 

Herbert rang the bell for his hat, and went out with them. 
The man-servant addressed his master as he was showing 
them to the door. 

“ If Captain Dane 6omes, sir, am I to ask him to wait?^^ 

“ No,^' mechanically replied Herbert. 

Arrived at the Castle, they asked for an interview with Lord 
Dane. The butler resolutely refused them. “You know, 
Mr. Herbert,^^ he said, in a tone of remonstrance, turning to 
the latter, “ that my lord will now never be disturbed in an 
evening. Could not these gentlemen come to-morrow? Or 
perhaps they will walk in and wait till the captain enters. I 
don^t suppose heTl be late; he dined at home.^^ 

“ Bruff,’^ cried the surgeon, who knew the servant, “ we 
must see Lord Dane. An accident has happened to the cap- 
tain, and — I do fear — you will never see him home again. Go 
in to his lordship: py that we have heard bad news, and 
have come to tell it him; he will be sure to admit us.^^ 

The butler turned from them in doubt and dread, and en- 
tered the dining-room. 

“ My lord will see you, gentlemen,” he said, when he came 
out. “ My lady and Lady Adelaide are there,” ihe added, in 
a low voice. 

They entered. Not Herbert; he lingered outside. The but- 
ler held the door open for him, but he shook his head, and 
the man stepped back and closed the door. 

I declare 1 don’t like to face them, Bruff. It will be 
awful tidings, especially for Lady Dane. I’ll go in presently, 
when the brunt of the shock is over.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


35 


What has happened, Mr. Herbert? They spoke of the 
captain, but he was quite well when he went out from dinner. " 

‘‘I really can not tell you what has happened: I don't 
understand," was the reply of Herbert. They called upon 
me with a tale that he had fallen over the cliff, and asked me 
to come up here. It is incredible. " 

How the two gentlemen contrived to break the news to 
Lord and Lady Dane they scarcely knew themselves. Soon 
the house was in commotion. His lordship had not the use of 
his own legs, but he speedily set in motion those who had. 
Some of the servants were sent flying for the man, Mitchel, 
some for the police-inspector, some across to the brow of the 
heights, some down to the bay to see if the American yacht 
was gone. Lord Dane was in great excitement, though he 
did not wholly believe the tale : as Herbert had said, it was in- 
credible. 

“ What do you know of this, Herbert?" Lord Dane asked 
of the latter, when he at length went in. ‘‘ When did you 
last see Henry?" 

‘‘ In the afternoon: about two, I think it was. He was 
with that Colonel Moncton — or whatever the man's name is — 
they were coming out of the Castle. Henry stopped me and 
said he would come in and smoke a manilla at m^/ house this 
evening, and it was agreed upon. Nine o’clock he named. He 
was going to dine on board the yacht, but would be back by 
nine, for she would be setting sail." 

“ Did he come?" 

“Ho. I was waiting for him still, when Mr. Apperly and 
Mr. Wild called." 

“ What do you think of this tale?" 

“ I can only hope that the man, Mitchel, was wandering in 
his brain before falling into the fit, and that Harry will be 
found safe on board the yacht," was the reply of Herbert 
Dane. 

Lady Dane was pacing the room restlessly: she occasionally 
put a question to Herbert. Lady Adelaide s^t on a sofa, her 
head bent down and buried in the cushions. 

“Any one, but you, would be over on the brow of the 
heights," cried Lord Dane, sharply, to his nephew, “ looking 
out for — " 

“ I have been," interrupted Herbert. “ I went over with 
Bruff while the news was being broken to you. Supervisor 
'Cotton and some of his men were there." 

“ And what did you see!" interrupted Lady Dane. 

“Nothing at all. The tide was up and the beach under- 


36 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

neath was covered with. it. Everything seemed calm and 

Were there any traces of the scuffle on the heights?"' re- 
joined Lord Dane. .... 

“ None whatever, so far^ as we could see by this li^ht. I 
don't know what may be visible by day. Cotton declares he 
does not believe a word of the story." 

“ Neither do I?" cried out Lord Dane, very much in the 
manner of a man who would like to brave out something that 
he does believe. 

Of the messengers sent out, the first to return was the serv- 
ant who had been dispatched to the yacht. 

The yacht had gone when he reached the bay, had sailed 
out nearly two hours before, and must be then far away, for 
the wind was fair. 

“ Then there's no knowing whether Harry went on board 
or not," groaned Lord Dane. He had unconsciously clung 
to the hope that the ‘‘ Pearl " might still be in port and his 
son on board of her, and to find that it was not so, came upon 
him like a keen blow. 

‘‘ The captain had not been on board, my lord," rejoined 
the servant. I saw Mills, the sail-maker, who was on the 
‘ Pearl' at work all day, only quitting her at the last moment. 
He said Colonel Moncton was disappointed that the captain 
did not come to dinner, and that he had to sail without seeing 
him. I asked Mills if he had seen Captain Dane about, down 
there, this evening, but he said. No; he had come on board 
with the colonel in the afternoon, for an hour, but he had not 
seen him since. " 

The inspector of police was the next to arrive; but Mitchel 
did not come at all. He was not sufficiently well to venture 
out again that night. The inspector heard the various 
stories, and received Lord Dane's orders to apprehend Eavens- 
bird, and to bring him before him the following morning. 

At length the Castle was cleared. But the old Lord and 
Lady Dane sat up the livelong night hoping that Harry might 
return, hoping against hope. Had they heard Mitchel's testi- 
mony by word of mouth, they might have been less sanguine; 
but they sat on in sick expectancy. The tide receded from 
the strip of beach, leaving nothing on it, leaving no signs that 
anything, dead or alive, had been on it. And the morning 
light dawned upon the earth, and the morning sun shone out 
to gladden it; but Harry Dane had not come. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


37 


CHAPTER IV. 

LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

Just before entering Danesheld, standing in a somewhat 
obscure spot, though near to the fishermen's huts, was a small 
inn, or public house, called the “ Sailor's Rest." It was kept 
by a man of the name of Hawthorne, who had once been 
gamekeeper to the Dane family. It was a well conducted 
inn, of rather a better class than a common public-house, pro- 
fessed to afford good bed and board, and had its share of cus- 
tom. Among those fond of frequenting its bar and parlor 
were the men-servants from the Castle; and it was to this 
place that Ravensbird proceeded when turned out by his mas- 
ter, intending to take up at it his temporary sojourn. 

On the morning afterward, the landlord was in the bar alone 
— or, at any rato, he thought he was alone. He was busy pol- 
ishing his taps, and setting things straight, according to his 
custom before breakfast, when one of the preventive-men, on 
his way down to the beach, came up the passage and entered. 

“ Half a gill of rum, landlord; the morning air's chilly." 

“ 'Twas a bit of a frost I fancy last night," responded the 
landlord, as he handed him what was called for, “ but it'll be 
a fine day. " 

“ I hope it will, for the work that's got to be done. They'll 
be dragging for the body in shore, and all Danesheld, I sup- 
pose, will turn out to see." 

“ Dragging for what |)ody?" returned the landlord. “ Has 
anybody been lost?" ^ 

The man was in the act of putting the glass of rum to his 
lips; he drew it back in astonishment, and gazed at the land - 
lord. 

“ Why! you don’t mean to say you have never heard?" 

“ What is there to hear?" 

“ Of the calamity that has overtook the Castle. Captain 
Dane's murdered." 

“ Captain Dane murdered!" echoed the landlord, doubting 
whether his ears were not playing him false. 

“ He was murdered last night. It's a odd thing you didn't 
hear of it — though perhaps you were shut up when the folks 
came back from the Castle. Mitchel was on his beat, and saw 
a scuffle on the heights between two men, not knowing then 
who they were, and one pitched the other over and killed him. 


38 


LADY ADELAIDF/S OATH. 

When Mitchel got up to the fallen man he found it was Cap- 
tain Dane — stone dead. 

“ Good mercy preserve us!’^ uttered Hawthorne. 

“ And that fool of a Mitchel comes rushing up to the 
guard-station at the pace of a steam-engine, which we conclude 
upset his heart, or some other vital part of him, and must 
needs fall into a fit. The consequence was, that nobody knew 
any thing about it till he came to, which was more than an 
hour after, and then the tide had covered the beach, and 
washed the body away. Sickly fellows like Mitchel are never 
good for much. 

“ Poor gentleman!’^ exclaimed the landlord. “ It was only 
the day before yesterday he stopped at the door here an& 
spoke to me as he went by. What an affliction for my lord 
and my lady. Who was the quarrel with? Who threw him 
over?^' 

“ His late servant, Eavensbird. 

The landlord backed against the shelves as if thunderstruck, 
and an iron ladle which he held in his hand clattered on to 
the ground. 

“ Eavensbird!'’^ he uttered, in a low, awe-struck 
“ Eavensbird!” 

“ Eavensbird, and nobody else. He was not long carrying 
out his threats of vengeance.’^ 

“ Why, he has been lodging here ever since yesterday 
morning. He is upstairsjn bed at this moment. I couldn't 
have slept in the same house with him, if I had known this 
last night. " 

“ He must have dodged Captain Dane, and waylaid him on 
the heights. The curious part of t]ie affair is, what took 
Captain Dane over to the brow at all; some thjnk that Eavens- 
bird, in some cunning way, entrapped him into going, and 
then — " 

At this moment an interruption occurred which nearly made 
the landlord and the speaker start out of their skins. A high- 
j3acked, wooden screen went partially-across the bar, its seat 
in front facing the fire. At the back of the screen stood the 
landlord and his customer; and at this critical juncture the 
head of Mp Eavensbird was propelled round it, glaring at the 
two in indignation. He had been quietly seated there all the 
time. 

“ Your name’s Dubber, I believe,” he said, looking at the 
preventive-man. How dare you stand there to traduce 
me?" 

Dubber was, as the saying runs, taken-to. He was too con- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


3d 


fused to make any reply. And Ravensbird walked round and 
confronted him. 

“ By what authority do you accuse me of the crime of mur- 
der?^^ 

“ Well, now, Mr. Ravensbird, if what Fve said is not true; 
if you are innocent, I^m sure I beg your pardon,^ ^ he an- 
swered, gathering courage and his wits together. “ But you 
must not blame me. If I had not told Hawthorne, the next 
comer-in would. When events like this happen, people will 
talk; and if you were not mixed up in this, youM be the first 
to talk of it yourself. Mitchel saw the affair, and saw the 
captain pitched down; and he says the other was Mr. Ravens- 
bird. 

“ Mitchel says that it was I? That he saw me?^^ 

‘‘As I hear; the men were saying so last night. I didnT 
hear Mitchel speak myself, for I wasn’t in the guard-house 
till he had gone. ” 

“ Is what you have been asserting true? — that Captain Dane 
is murdered?” pursued Ravensbird. 

“ Oh, that’s true, safe enough. They are getting ready the 
drags to search for the body. ” 

“ On what part of the heights did it happen?” proceeded 
Ravensbird. 

“ Oif the chapel-ruins. He fell down just beyond Rock 
Point. But I must 'be off, for my time’s up,” added the 
man, “ unless I’d like to get reported.” 

He turned round as he spoke, and departed, glad to be away 
from the stern eye, the sallow face of Ravensbird. “ Putting 
them questions as if he’d like to make believe he was an inno- 
cent know-nothing,” thought Dubber. “But they won’t 
avail him much, when he’s carpeted before my Lord Dane.” 

Ravensbird turned his eyes on the landlord, when they were 
left alone. “ What do you know of this business, Hawthorne?” 

“ If you were sitting in the screen, Mr. Ravensbird, you 
must know as much as I. I have only heard what Dubber 
said.” 

“ What do you think of it?” 

“ I can’t think. Who would do harm to Captain Dane? Ho 
had no enemies that I know of. I’m sure the quarrel with 
you was quite unlike him.” 

“ Unlike his general nature. He was put up — and so was 
I. Where’s my hat? Up-stairs, I think. I shall go out and 
ascertain the truth of this business.” 

He quitted the bar to go to his chamber, and almost at the 
same moment the inspector of police entered it. He ranged 


40 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

his eyes round and round, as if in search of some object, and 
then nodded to the landlord. 

“Good-morning, Hawthorne. You have got^ Master 
Ravensbird lodging with you, I hear. Is he up yet?” 

“ He was here not an instant ago, sir. He’s gone to his 
room to fetch his hat. He wants to go out and learn the par- 
ticulars of this sad business about the captain. Dubber has 
just been in to tell of it. I’m sure you might have knocked 
me down with a puff. ” 

The inspector withdrew from the bar to the passage, and 
there he propped liimself against the wall. The position he 
had chosen commanded a view of the back-door of the house, 
as well as of the front. Almost immediately Kavensbird ap- 
peared, and the inspector accosted him. 

“A fine morning, Mr. Eavensbird.” 

“ Very. I am going out to enjoy it.” 

“ An instant yet. I want to say a few words to you. ” 

“ Not now,” impatiently returned Mr. Eavensbird. 

“ No time like the present,” was the reply of the inspector, 
as he laid his hand upon the man’s shoulder. “ Don’t be 
restive: I detain you.” 

Eavensbird turned his sallow face on the officer, his eyes 
flashing with anger. “ By what right? What do you mean?” 

“ Now, Eavensbird, don’t be unreasonable: take things 
quietly. You are my prisoner, and all* the resistance in the 
world will not avail you. ” 

Eavensbird’s answer to this icas resistance. He strove to 
wrench himself from the inspector’s grasp, and, though short 
of stature, he was a powerful man. Had it come to a tussle 
of strength between the two, he might have gained the victory; 
but before he well knew where he was, or what had happened, 
he found a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. 

“ The most senseless thing a man can be guilty of is to try 
and resist an officer in the execution of his duty,” observed 
the inspector, in a tone of pleasant argument, as though he 
were discussing the point with a knot of friends. “You need 
not suppose we do our work by halves, Eavensbird: had you 
escaped me, you would only have jumped into the sheltering 
arms of my men, who are planted outside of the house, front 
and back.” 

“ Planted for what?” fumed Eavensbird. 

For you. And there they have been all night, since Lord 
Dane gave me the orders- to arrest you. I thought I’d do the 
thing politely, and wait till morning: or I might have knocked 

up the house and taken you then.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


41 


“ How dare Lord Dane order me into custody!'^ 

“That's his affair." 

“He is no magistrate: by what right does he grant war- 
rants? He — " 

The inspector burst into a laugh. “ A stipendiary magis- 
trate, no. But he is lord of the manor, and lord-lieutenant 
of the county. Don't question Lord Dane's rights, my 
man." 

Eavensbird appeared to be cooling down. “ Understand 
me, " he said. “ I do not want to resist the authority of the 
law, and if I were free as air this moment, I should stay and 
face this matter out. But what I am vexed and annoyed at 
is this: I was on the point of going out to inquire; to ferret 
out particulars; I have a motive for doing so that you know 
nothing of: and I'd rather have given a ten-pound note out 
of my pocket than have been stopped in it." 

The inspector coughed — as incredulous a cough as ever man 
gave vent to. In his opinion, there was not a shadow of 
doubt that the attacker of Captain Dane was the man before 
him : and he looked upon the words as being put forth in cun- 
ning deceit. 

“ I'm sorry I can't spare you. If you can convince Lord 
Dane of your innocence, why you'll be at liberty perhajDS be- 
fore the day's over. But there are no particulars to learn be- 
yond what are universally known. The struggle took place. 
Captain Dane was thrown down, and the tide washed the 
body away." 

“ Dubbor says the struggle took place by the ruins." 

“ Not ten yards from them," replied the inspector, who 
was a good-tempered man, and liked to humor his prisoners. 
“ But what's the use of your -keeping up this show of igno- 
rance, Eavensbird?" he added. “ You have got an old card 
to deal with in me. As if there was any living man could 
tell the time, the place, the facts altogether, so certainly as 
you." 

Eavensbird . looked the inspector steadily in the face, never 
quailing. “ You may be an old card — experience has made 
you one— but you have taken the wrong man in taking me. 
I did not know that auy accident, any ill had happened to 
Captain Dane, until Dubber just now told it; I did not know 
but he was alive and well; and that I swear." 

“Now don't you take and swear to any nonsense, or it 
may be used against you," was the retort of the inspector. 
“ I never care to make bad worse for those who come into 
my custody; it's not my way; but when prisoners get chatter- 


42 


LADY ADELAIDP/S OATH. 


iiig, and letting out all sorts of slip words in their folly, why 
I’m obliged to repeat it again. The best thing you can do is 
to sew your mouth up until you are before Lord Dane. And 
that’s friendly advice, mind.’ ^ 

Possibly Eavensbird felt it to be so: for, if he did not ob- 
serve it literally and sew up his mouth with thread, he at any 
rate relapsed into silence. 

Between nine and ten he was conveyed to the Castle. Lord 
Dane was seated in his audience-chair in the great hall: though 
so physically powerless, his mind was as vigorous to conduct 
the investigation as it had ever been. Mr. Apperly, in his 
legal capacity, sat near him, small table and pen and ink be- 
fore him; Squire Lester, Supervisor Cotton, and a few others 
were present — but not Mitchel. He was expected, but had 
not come. A sensation was created when Eavensbird, in his 
handcuifs, was introduced by the inspector. 

“You bad, wicked mani” broke forth Lord Dane, in 
anguish, forgetting the dignity of a magistrate in the feelings 
of a father. “ Could nothing serve your turn but you must 
murder my poor son?” 

“ I did not murder him, my lord,” respectfully answered 
Eavensbird. 

“ We don’t want quibbling here,” interrupted the lawyer, 
who was of an excitable temperament, apt to put himself into 
heats. “ If you did not deliberately murder him with a knife, 
or a club, or a pistol, or anything of that sort, you attacked 
him and threw him over the clilf. I don’t know what else 
you can call it but murder. ” 

“ I never was on the heights last night. I never saw Cap- 
tain Dane after he turned me from the Castle in the morn- 
ing,” responded Eavensbird. “ Who accuses me of this?” 

‘‘ How, my good man,” impetuously broke forth the law- 
yer, “ this absurd equivocation will not avail you, and you only 
waste breath and my lord’s time in using it. You have 
brought enough sorrow upon his lordship without seeking to 
l)rolong this trying scene.” 

“ I asked who was my accuser, Mr. Apperly,” doggedly 
repeated the prisoner: “ and I have a right to be answered. ” 
Circumstances and your own actions are your accusers, 
and Mitchel is evidence,” returned Mr. Apperly. “ He wit- 
nessed the struggle on the heights, and he saw you push down 
Captain Dane.” ^ 

“ Could not Mitchel have been here by this hour?” feverishly 
put in Lord Dane, looking at the supervisor. 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


43 


“ I thought he would have been up before this, my lord,” 
was the reply of the latter. I’ll go out and see after him.” 

‘‘ Does Mitchel say it was I struggling with Captain 
Dane? — that he saw me?” inquired the prisoner, as Mr. Cot- 
ton left the hall. 

“ Of course he does,” answered the lawyer. Do you im- 
agine he would conceal it?” 

Then he tells a malicious, gratuitous lie,” exclaimed 
Ravensbird. “ And he must do so to screen the real offender. ” 

Lord Dane bent his head forward and spoke. “ Ravens- 
bird, as Mr. Apperly says, this line of conduct will only tell 
against you. Had no person whatever seen the transaction 
there could not have been any misconception upon the point, 
for who else, but you, was in ill-blood with my son? Of the 
nature of the quarrel between you and him, yesterday morn- 
ing, I am in ignorance, but it is certain that you must have 
provoked him most grievously, and you quitted my roof utter- 
ing threats against him.” 

“ My lord, so far, that is true,” replied Ravensbird, calmly 
and respectfully. “ I gave Captain Dane certain informa- 
tion, by which I thought to do him a service, but he received 
it in a contrary spirit. It was connected with his own affairs, 
not pleasant news, and it called forth anger on his part 
toward me. I felt that it was unmerited, that I was harshly 
treated, and my own anger was roused. I answered my mas- 
ter as I confess I had no business to answer him. We both 
grew excited, he beyond control, and he ordered me out of 
the house and kicked me down the stairs. I ask you, my lord, 
whether.it was likely I could take it calmly, without a retort? 
I had been a good servant to my master, had served him faith- 
fully for years, and that only made me feel the insult more 
keenly. I left the Castle, and for the next two hours all I did 
was to give vent to my feelings in harsh words — ” 

“ You said you w^ould be revenged,” interrupted Lord 
Dane. 

“ Ten times, at least, I said it, my lord, and many heard 
me, but by the end of the two hours my anger was spent. 
Harsh words they were, but idle as the wind. I never seri- 
ously entertained the thought of taking vengeance on my roas- 
ter. I had but spoken in the heat of passion; and, before 
long, I actually began in my own mind to find some excuse 
for him. ” 

“ You forget that your struggle with him was witnessed by 
the preventive-man.” 

“ It never was, my lord, for no struggle with me took 


44 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


place. What Mitchers motive for accusing me can be, I can 
not tell: either his eyesight deceived him, or he is screening 
the real offender at my cost. But I don’t fear; the truth is 
sure to come to light. ” 

“ The truth is to the light already,” sarcastically replied 
Mr. Apperly. “ I am astonished at your ridiculous persist- 
ence, prisoner. You may just as well hold to it that the sun.' 
is not shining into the room at this present moment. But all 
this is most irregular, and only a waste of time. Inspector, ' 
is there nothing we can proceed with in order, while waiting 
for Mitchel? Are there no witnesses to be examined?” 

The police-inspector stood forward and addressed Lord Dane. 

Your lordship has done me the honor to put the conducting 
of this case into my hands,” he said, “ and I must ask to be 
allowed to question a witness — or that your lordship would 
question her. It has come to my knowledge that there is one 
of your lordship’s family who perhaps may be enabled to 
throw some light upon the affair: I speak of Lady Adelaide 

There was a pause. Lord Dane did not reply. Mr. Apper- 
ly stared, and the inspector continued. 

“ I have been informed that the Lady Adelaide proceeded as 
far as the ruins last night, just about the time the affray must 
have happened, and came back screaming, in a state of ex- 
treme terror. It strikes me, my lord, that her terror may 
have been caused through having seen something of the affray: 
and I should like to question her.” 

“ I have questioned her,” replied Lord Dane. “ She says 
not.” 


“ Pardon me, my lord, if I hold my own opinion. Her 
ladyship is but young, most likely timid, and she may feel 
afraid to confess to it. It may be necessary — with your lord- 
ship’s sanction— to administer the oath.” 

Lord Dane dispatched a summons for Lady Adelaide. The 
reader must not suppose that things were conducted with the 
regularity that they would have been in a formal court. 
Nothing of the sort. Lord Dane ruled, and the rest bowed to 
his will. 


Adelaide came in, not daring to disobey. She was in a 
white morning-dress, ornamented with blue ribbons. The 
sunlight fell upon her auburn hair, and her color went and 
came painfully: one minute she was crimson: the next, white 
as her robe. She shivered and shook as she took the oath. 


“ Had your ladyshi 
last evening?” asked 


ip any motive in going out to the ruins 
the inspector. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 45 

It was a fine night/ ^ she faltered, her voice scarcely 
audible. 

“ You had no suspicion that any quarrel or affray was about 
to take place there?'^ 

“ Oh, no!’^ she vehemently answered. 

“ It took you by surprise, then. Will your ladyship tell 
us what you sawr^^ 

She burst into tears. But for her oath, she would have de- 
nied seeing anything, as she had hitherto done. 

“ Speak out,^^ said Lord Dane, sternly. 

“ I ran across to the ruins: it was very stupid and thought- 
less of me: and I went inside,'’^ she sobbed. “ I stood a few 
moments to take breath, and I fancied I heard voices, as if in 
dispute. 

‘‘ And then?^^ eagerly questioned Lord Dane, for she had 
paused. 

“ I crossed the ruins to the other door — the one nearer the 
sea — and looked out. Two men seemed to be struggling on 
the brow of the precipice, and I saw one fall over. I was 
nearly terrified out of my senses: I believe that, for ttK' mo- 
ment, my senses did leave me : all I remember is, that I tore 
out of the ruins, and back here, screaming. 

“ Why did you not state this?^^ sharply demanded Lord 
Dane. 

“ Oh, I was too frightened, she shivered. “ I was sick 
with fear. I thought if the men should come after me, and 
kill me for watching them.^^ 

“ Did you recognize one to be Harry? 

‘‘ No, no. How could I recognize them in that short mo- 
ment?” 

“ My lady,^^ interrupted Mr. Apperly, “ did the other seem 
to bear any resemblance to the prisoner here?” 

“ Not that I saw or thought of,'"’ she answered. It did 
not strike me that either of them was Eavensbird. ” 

“ If she could not recognize my son, she could not recognize 
Eavensbird,” observed Lord Dane. 

“ My lady,” struck in the inspector, ‘^did no idea, ever so 
faint, convey to your mind who either of them might be?” 

The question — from him — seemed to excite her anger, and 
she turned her face haughtily upon him. 

‘‘ Did you not hear my replies to Lord Dane and Mr. Ap- 
perly? Had I recognized Captain Dane or his adversary, should 
I be likely to say I did not? To what end? What had the 
affair to do with me?” 

It takes a great deal to stop a police-inspector. And this 


46 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

one proceeded as deliberately as though he had received no 
reproof. 

“ Nor the voices either, my lady? Did you not recognize 
themr^’ 

“ I recognized nothing, she impatiently answered. ‘‘ I 
was too terrified. May I retire?"' she added, turning to Lord 
Dane. “ If I stop here forever, I can say no more. "" 

“ An instant yet, my lady," interrupted the inspector. 
“ Did the other — the one who did not go over the cM — at- 
tempt to follow you, when you ran away?" 

“ Not that I saw — ^not that I know of. I did not look 
round to see." 

My lady," continued the undaunted inspector, I must 
ask you one more question; and you will pardon me foi* re- 
minding you that you are upon your oath, before you answer 
it. Have you told all 9 Is there nothing that you are keep- 
ing back?" 

But the question was never answered. For Lady Adelaide, 
overcome by emotion, caused perhaps by past remembrance, 
perhaps by present perplexity, turned deadly white, and fell 
back on a chair. 

She knows no more," said Lord Dane. “ Take her up- 
stairs to my lady. " 


CHAPTER V. 


RICHAKD RAYEl^SBIRD. 


Lord Dane grew impatient in his chair of state. The 
warrant, committing Richard Ravensbird for the willful mur- 
der of his son, was already made out; it wanted only the sig- 
nature, and that waited but for the formality of Mitchel's evi- 
dence. Mr. Apperly busied himself with his papers; the pris- 
oner leaned against the wall, the inspector was in a brown 
study, his arms folded, while the servants collected outside in 
groups, to express their horror and aversion of their late com- 
rade, Ravensbird. 

“ Here's Mitchel, here's Mitchel," briskly cried out Mr. 
Apperly, seeing the approach of the man. “ Now, then, we 
shall soon have it over. " 


The preventive-man came in, under the wing of Supervisor 
Cotton. He looked pale and ill still, and Lord Dane ordered 
him a chair, while he gave his evidence. He testified to hear- 
ing the disputing sounds, to seeing indistinctly the struffffle, 
and to the fall of Captain Dane. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


47 


‘^Thrown over by Kavensbird,” said hot-tongued Lawyer 
Apperly. 

Yes,” responded Mitchel. 

” Were there no signs of life whatever in my son?” in- 
quired Lord Dane, struggling with his inward feelings. 

“ None, my lord; he was as dead as ever I saw anybody. I 
wish I could' have carried him away with me in my arms, my 
lord, instead of leaving him to be washed away with the tide; 
but it was beyond my strength. I wish I had not fell into 
that fit; there ’d have been time to get to him.” 

“ You could not help it, Mitchel,” replied Lord Dane, in a 
sad, kind tone. “ Did you recognize him to be my son on 
the heights before he fell?” 

Mitchel shook his head. 

‘^Impossible, my lord. It was only moonlight, and the 
scuffle did not seem to last a moment hardly before he was 
over. It was only when 1 got to him, trying to lift him up, 
that I saw it was Captain Bane. ” 

An interruption came from the prisoner. He had fixed his 
stern, black eyes on Mitchel when the man first entered, 
never removing them; they seemed to devour every turn of his 
countenance, every word that fell from his mouth. 

“ My lord,” said he, turning to Lord Dane, “ the worst 
criminal brought to the bar is allowed an advocate, by the 
English law; but I have been hurried here without one. Hav- 
ing none, I should like to ask the witness a question myself.” 

“ Ask it,” assented Lord Dane. 

“ You have Just sworn that it was impossible you could 
recognize Captain Dane upon the heights, that it was only 
moonlight, and the scuffle lasted but a moment,” proceeded 
the prisoner to Mitchel, availing himself of the permission. 

“ If you could not recognize him, how could you recognize 
me?” 


“ I did not recognize you,” returned Mitchel. 

A pause. The prisoner spoke out again eagerly, jiassion- 
ately. 

“Then why did you say you did?” 

“I didn’t say it.” 

“You did. As I am told.” 

“ No, I did not say it. My eyesight did not carry me so 
far,” was Mitchel’s rejoinder; but he was interrupted by the 
police-inspector. 

‘ ‘ Do you mean to deny, Mitchel, now you are on your oath, 
that it was Ravensbird who flung over Captain Dane?” 

“ I couldn’t say that it wasn’t, or that it was, sir. It might 


48 


LAPy ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


have been him, or it might have been anybody else in this 
room, for all I saw. ” 

The inspector looked at Lord Dane. ^ 

“ I understood your lordship, last night, that Mitchel had 
seen and recognized Eavensbird as the offender.” 

/ understood so,” ’returned Lord Dane, I was so in- 
formed. You, for one, Apperly, certainly said so.’* 

Mr. Apperly brought his spectacles severely down upon the 
countenance of Mitchel and spoke in a sharp, quick tone. 

You know you said last evening, in the guard-house, that 
it was Eavensbird.” 

‘‘ I said it was sure to have been Eavensbird because, of 
the quarrel he had with his master in the morning,” answered 
Mitchel. “ As I was coming to, after my attack, and telling 
what I had seen, somebody exclaimed — and I do believe it was 
yourself, Mr. Apperly — that it must have been Eavensbird, 
and I agreed, saying there was no doubt of it. But I never 
said it was Eavensbird from my own knowledge; from my own 
eyesight. ” 

‘‘ Then are we to understand, Mitchel, that you do not 
positively know who it was that was engaged in the conflict 
with my son? — that you did not recognize the person?” asked 
Lord Dane. 

“ I did not, my lord. I surmised it to be Mr. Eavensbird 
on account of the quarrel, but I could not see who the people 
were scuffling on the heights. Had Captain Dane not fallen, 
I could not have known him to be one. The other might 
have been a woman for all I could see.” 

The party felt rather nonplussed. Every one present, in- 
cluding the usually keen and correct inspector, had fully 
understood that Mitchel could swear to Eavensbird. The mis- 
apprehension had gone abroad, carried from one to the other. 

“ It makes little difference,” cried Lawyer Apperly, who 
was the first to speak. “It could have been nobody but 
Eavensbird. He owed his master a grudge, and he paid him 
out: he rnay not have intended a fatal termination — ” 

“ But it makes every difference,” interrupted the prisoner, 
in agitation. “ If a credible witness says he saw a man com- 
mit murder, he is believed; but, if it turns out that he never 
saw it, it makes all the difference. My lord,” he added, “ I 
swear I was not the assailant ot your son: I swear I never saw 
him after I left here this morning.” 

Lord Dane looked annoyed at the appeal. His belief that 
Eavensbird was the guilty man was firm as a rock. Mr, 
Apperly spoke up authoritatively: 


LADY ADELAIDE’-S OATH. 


49 


“Assertions go for nothing, prisoner. Perhaps you^ll ac- 
count for your time yesterday, hour by hour, up to ten o^ clock 
at night. ” 

“ Yes, I can,^^ somewhat doggedly, returned the prisoner. 
“ After I quitted the castle, I went straight to the Sailor ^s 
Rest, and the landlord can tell you so.^^ 

“ But you may not have stopped at the Sailor^s Rest.^^ 

“ I did stop at it; and twenty people, going in and out, saw 
me there; and I dined and had tea with the landlord and his 
wife.-’" 

“Well — after tea:"" 

Ravensbird hesitated. 

“ After tea I sat in the parlor with the landlady till it was 
hard upon seven, and then I went out for a stroll. "" 

The inspector pricked up his ears and exchanged glances 
with Mr. Apperly. The latteV continued, his dry, hard tone 
speaking volumes. 

“ Where did you stroll to? Which road?"" 

“ I don"t know that that matters to anybody,"" was the 
somewhat sullen answer. 

“ Perhaps it was up this road?"" 

“ Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn"t,"" returned the prisoner. 
But all present felt that it. was. 

“ Why, bless my heart!"" uttered the lawyer, nearly jump- 
ing from his chair with the suddenness that the recollection 
flashed upon him, “ I met you myself, Ravensbird; I was on 
my way home from a client"s, and encountered you coming up 
tills way. It was about seven o"clock. You can not deny it. "" 

“ I have not attempted to deny it, Mr. Apperly."" 

“ Well, now, the question is. What time did you get back 
again to the Sailor"s Rest?"" 

Ravensbird answered the question by asking another, look- 
ing at Mitchel as he did so. 

“ What time was it that you saw the scuffle, and the fall?"" 

It had gone the half-hour past eight,"" was the immediate 
reply of Mitchel, “ it was hard upon the quar^r to nine."" 

Ravensbird coolly folded his arms and drew^ack. 

“ That settles it, then,"" said he, with the air of a man who 
has done with contention; “ I was back inside the Sailor"s 
Rest at twenty minutes past eight, and I did not stir out again. "" 

It, however, by no means “ settled"" it. For not one be- 
lieved him. They could not have been more fully persuaded 
that he was the culprit had they actually seen him with their 
own eyes pitch over Captain Dane. 

“ I gather,"" said Lord Dane, “ that you were— according 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


50 

to your own account — absent from the inn somewhere about 
an hour and a half. Where did you pass that interval?” 

“ My lord, I must decline to answer,” promptly replied the 
prisoner. 

“ You refuse to state, sir?” 

“ Yes, my lord. I was at the Sailor’s Rest at the time the 
crime is stated to have been committed, and could have had 
nothing to do with it; therefore I would respectfully submit 
to your lordship that my movements, preceding it, have no 
right to be inquired into.” 

“ don’t you go drifting against rocks, prisoner, or 
may be you’ll split upon them,” interposed the inspector. 
“ When a man’s arrested on a capital charge, it is the busi- 
ness of the law to work up and bring to light, not only his 
movements and doings, but every particular respecting him. 
So you will do well to answer his lordship.” 

“ I decline to answer,” was the only response reiterated by 
the prisoner. 

However convinced Lord Dane, the solicitor, and the po- 
lice might feel that Ravensbird was guilty, it was yet neces- 
sary to show justifiable grounds for the opinion, ere the 
warrant was acted upon. Ravensbird was detained in cus- 
tody at the Castle, while the inspector went to make inquiries 
in the town. And he brought back news which completely 
bafiled Lord Dane. 

Hawthorne and his wife, in conjunction with two or three 
other respectable witnesses, declared that Ravensbird tvas back 
at the Sailor’s Rest by twenty minutes past eight, and that he 
did not quit it again. He sat in the parlor, common to the 
guests, till eleven, when the house shut up, and then retired 
to his chamber. The inspector confessed himself “ floored ” 
by the news. 

But what about the warrant? Why, it was of no use, and 
had been made out for nothing; for it could not be put in 
force against Ravensbird. Neither was there any plea for de- 
taining him in chstody in the face of so distinct an alibi; and 
he was discharged. 

“ Only to be retaken,” observed Lord Dane, as the man 
quitted the halL “I do not clearly, at present, understand 
hovv^it could be; either there is an error in the stated time, or 
some other false plea has been set up; but that Ravensbird is 
the guilty man, 1 feel a positive conviction. And he will soon 
be retaken on the charge.” 

“ Not he,” angrily dissented Mr. Apperly, who was more 
vexed than anybody at the termination; not that he was a 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


51 


malicious man, but Ms mind also was fully made up. “ Now 
that he has got his liberty, my lord, he'll be putting distance 
between himself and this place with the seven-leagued boots of 
Jack in the fairy tale; and when anything fresh turns up to 
retake him upon, he'll be non esL” 

“ I could not do otherwise," returned Lord Dane. “ I 
could not commit him in the teeth of evidence. Neverthe- 
less, I am certain the man is guilty; and the very fact of his 
refusing to state where he was, or how he passed his time dur- 
ing a portion of the evening, would almost condemn him. 
An innocent man has nothing to conceal." 

Near the gate before mentioned stood Herbert Dane, when 
Eavensbird was released from the Castle. Not perched upon 
it, as was his wont in gayer times, but leaning against it in 
pensive sadness. That the untimely fate of his cousin gave 
him much concern was evident. He looked exceedingly sur- 
prised to see Eavensbird approach, released from the hand- 
cuffs, and unattended by the guardians of the law. 

“ What! have they let you off, Eavensbird?" he uttered, as 
the man neared him. 

“Could they do otherwise, Mr. Herbert?" was the re- 
sponse of Eavensbird, stopping short before him, as though 
he disdained to shun inquiry. 

“ Do otherwise!" echoed Herbert. “ Why, the whole 
place is saying that there never was a clearer case. Mitchel 
testifies that he saw you push him over. " 

“ No, he does not, Mr. Herbert," steadily answered the 
man, bringing his piercing black eyes to bear fully on the face 
of Herbert Dane. 

“ Has he eaten his words, then, before my lord?" 

“ No, sir. He never spoke the words; it was a misconcep- 
tion altogether. When you see Mitchel, you had better in- 
quire for yourself, and you will find that he did not distin- 
guish who the stragglers were. He would not have known the 
captain but for his falling at his feet." 

‘ ‘ And so, on the strength of the uncertainty, they have 
given you your liberty! I suppose you will hasten now to put 
the sea, or some equally effective barrier, between you and 
England." 

“ Why should I?" returned Eavensbird. “ An innocent 
man does not fly like a craven." 

Herbert Dane very nearly laughed. 

“Innocent!" he exclaimed, his tone savoring of ridicule. 

“ You know, Eavensbird, it is of no use to be on the exalted 
ropes before me. The words you spoke in my presence, yester- 


52 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


day morning, in this very spot, the threats of vengeance yon 
uttered against your master, would be enough to hang you. 
But—” 

“ Do you believe me guilty, Mr. Herbert.^” interrupted the 
man, drawing nearer with his fixed, penetrating eyes. 

“ I was about to say, Kavensbird, that you are safe for me,^^ 
proceeded Herbert Dane. make no doubt that you 

dropped the words in the heat of passion, almost unconscious 
(if I may so express it) that I was within hearing, to take cog- 
nizance of them. I felt sorry for you at. the time, feeling that 
my cousin, in his passion, (whatever may have called it forth), 
must have been unjustifiably harsh, and I will not put myself 
forward against you. Moreover, were you gibbeted on the 
nearest tree this day, it could not bring your master back to 
life.” 

“ Sir,^^ repeated Eavensbird, in the same calm, matter-of- 
fact voice, “ I asked if you believed me guilty.” 

“ What a superfluous question!” was the retort. ‘‘ Do you 
suppose there’s a soul in the place but must believe it? — al- 
though you have contrived to escape bonds. You ask me if 
I believe you guilty, when I say that I could hang you!” 

“ Then why don’t you hang me?” returned Eavensbird. 

“ I have told you why. I do not care to go out of my way 
to do you harm; and it could not benefit the dead. But guilty 
you certainly are.” 

The way in which Eavensbird stood his ground before Her- 
bert Dane, stony, self-possessed, not a muscle of his face 
changing, not a tremor in his voice, and his searching eyes 
never moving from Herbert’s face, astonished the latter not a 
little. 

“ Then you let me tell you that I am not guilty, Mr. Her- 
bert,” spoke Eavensbird. “Let me tell you something 
more, shall I?” 

‘‘ Well?” responded Herbert, lifting his questioning eyes. 

“ That I could this hour put my finger out upon the guilty 
person. As certain as that you and I, sir, are standing here, 
face to face, I know the one who did the deed. ” 

“ What absurd treason are you uttering now?” demanded 
Herbert, after a pause of blank astonishment. 

nothing absurd,” was the undaunted re- 
ply. I could lay my hand upon the party who murdered 
my master as readily as I now lay it upon this gate. But I 
don’t choose to do it; I bide my time.” 

Herbert Dane stared at the speaker from head to foot; 


LADY ADELAIDF/S OATH. 53 

wondering, possibly, whether the man was not giving utter- 
ance to a most audacious falsehood. 

‘‘Will you venture to assert — allowing that you were not 
one of the actors in it — that you witnessed the scuffle on the 
heights?'’^ he inquired. 

“ No, sir, I did not witness it; I was not there. I was in 
the public room at the Sailor ^s Eest at the time it took place, 
which proved fact has baffled my lord and the police, and com- 
pelled them to release me. But I know who was on the 
heights, though I was not. 

“And what maybe your reasons for holding it secret, if 
you know so muchr^^ 

“ That, sir, you must excuse me if I keep to myself, was 
Eavensbird^s reply. “ But I hope, Mr. Herbert, you will not 
again accuse me of being the guilty man. Good -day, sir,^^ 

Ravensbird turned off toward Hanesheld, as he concluded, 
and Mr. Herbert Dane stood watching him, deep in puzzled 
thought. Not until the former was out of sight did he wake 
from his reverie, and then he bent his steps toward the Castle. 

“ ITl know, at any rate, what grounds they had for letting 
the fellow off, ” cried he, in soliloquy. 

He had reached the Castle-gate when it was suddenly opened 
by Bruff, who was showing out Mr. Apperly. In another 
minute Herbert was in possession of the facts testified — that 
Ravensbird had been in the Sailor^s Rest at the time of the 
catastrophe. 

“ But, let be a bit, Mr. Herbert/^ continued the lawyer, in 
excitement. “ I canT question the good faith of the wit- 
nesses, for I believe them to be honest, and Hawthorne and 
his wife, at all events, would be true to the Dane family; but 
some trickery is at work, something is up; the hands of the 
clock were surreptitiously put back, or some other deviltry. 
Ravensbird^s the guilty man, and it will turn out so.-^’ 

“ What do you think, Bruff?^^ questioned Herbert, as Mr. 
Apperly marched hastily away, and they stood looking after 
him. 

“ Well, sir, we donT — us upper servants — know wliat to 
think. If appearances — that is, the quarrel with his master, 
and his revengeful threats — hadnT been so much against him, 
we should not have suspected Ravensbird, for he never seemed 
that sort of bad man. Then, again, the evidence just given 
has posed us; for if Ravensbird was at the Sailor^ sliest, he 
couldnl have been here on the heights. 

“ Very true,^^ responded Herbert, in a mechanical tone, as 


54 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


though his thoughts were elsewhere. “ There appears to be 
some mystery over it.-’^ 

‘‘ Thy had my Lady Adelaide before them in the hall this 
morning/' proceeded Bruff, dropping his voice. ‘‘And put 
the oath to her. " 

“Lady Adelaide!" quickly repeated Herbert.. “Why, 
what does she know?" 

“ It seems she saw the scuffle, sir, or partially saw it — as, of 
course, we servants suspected before, and that it was what 
frightened her — and the inspector thought she might have rec- 
ognized the assailant. " 

“ And did she?" asked Herbert Dane. 

“ Neither him nor the captain, sir. She was too frightened, 
she says, and knows nothing." 

“ Open the door, Bruffl I am going in to my lord." 

Lord Dane was alone when Herbert entered the hall. His 
lordship gave his nephew the heads of what had transpired, 
dwelling much upon the testimony, of the witnesses which 
tended to establish the alibi, but avowing his positive belief, 
in spite of it, that Eavensbird had been the man. Herbert 
agreed; and quitting the hall, went upstairs to the drawing- 
rooms. 

Lady Adelaide was alone. Herbert began speaking, in a 
low and cautious tone, his eyes ranging round the room, as 
though he feared the walls might have ears, of the catastrophe 
of the previous night. He was proceeding to ask what she 
had seen, what had caused her to scream, in the manner re- 
ported, when she vehemently interrupted him. 

“ Don't enter upon it! don't speak to me! If ever you so 
much as touch upon it to me by the faintest allusion, I will 
never willingly suffer you to come into my presence again." 

^ He gazed at her in utter surprise; he could not understand 
either her words or her vehemence. 

“ What do yoa mean, Adelaide? This to me?" 

“ Yes, to you or to any one. I will not be questioned, or 
reminded of the horrors of last night. I could not bear it. " 

Herbert Dane felt vexed, considerably chafed, and he 
showed it in his rejoinder. 

“ Does this indicate grief, inordinate grie^ for the loss of 
your declared lover?" 

^ “Never mind what it indicates," she answered, bursting 
into- tears. ‘‘ Now that he is gone, I feel how unjustifiable 
was my deceitful treatment of him. And if a promise of 
mine, to marry him the next hour, would recall liim to life, 
I would joyfully give it." 


LAD^^ ADELAIDF/s OATH. 


65 


“ You are unhinged, my dear/^ whispered Herbert Dane, 
thinking it better to bury his annoyance and surprise, and to 
soothe her: but that she really was so unhinged as to be 
scarcely responsible for what she said, he believed. “ What a 
pity it is,’^ he more impetuously broke forth, “ that you went 
near the ruins last night. 

“ I went there hoping to meet you,^’ she reproachfully in- 
terrupted. 

“ My dearest, I know it,’-’ he hastened to put in, in an aj:)- 
peasing tone. But she would not let l^m continue, drowning 
his words with her own. 

“ You told me in the day you should not be there if some 
friends came, whom you were expecting: but you were alone, 
after the train came in, and 1 judged that they had not come. 
Moreover, I saw some one, as I stood at this window, going, 
toward the ruins in the moonlight: I thought it might be you. 
And you reflect upon me foi\having gone!” 

“ Adelaide, what is the matter? What have I said or done 
to offend you? Are you angry because I did not go to the 
ruins? The two Eccingtons had given me a half promise to 
come over yesterday and dine, but* they did not kee]) it; I did 
not much think they would. Of course I could have gone to 
the ruins — and should, had I known you would be there. I 
did not suppose you would go, not expecting me, and I had a 
reason for stopping at home. Harry Dane had said he would 
call in and smoke a manilla: nine o’clock was the hour he 
mentioned, but he was proverbially uncertain, and might have 
made his appearance earlier. I did not deem it expedient to 
be out when he came.” 

Lady Adelaide vouchsafed no answer. She sat with her pale 
face cast down, playing with the ornaments attached to her 
chain. Mr. Herbert Dane resumed. 

“You speak and look as though you had » reproach to cast 
to me, Adelaide. What is the cause? How have I offended 
you?” 

She rose up from her chair, and Herbert noticed, as she 
raised one hand to push her hair from her brow, that the 
hand was shaking. She followed the bent of his eyes, and 
saw that he observed her tremor. 

“ I am — as you remarked but now — unhinged to-day, not 
fit for the society of any one,” she said. “ I did not intend 
to cast a reproach to you for not meeting me at the ruins.” 

And, sweeping past him, she was quitting the room, when 
he laid his hand on her arm to detain her. 

“ A moment, Adelaide. You may surely tell to me what 


56 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


you- would not to others— if you have anything to tell; any- 
thing you are concealing. Did you not recognize Harry 
Dane’s adversary last night? — not by the faintest shadow of ^ 
clew? Every conjecture would point to Eavensbird, yet the 
man says, earnestly, that he is innocent. ” 

Her face grew ashy white as she stood confronting him, and 
twice she essayed to speak ere any sound would come from 
her bloodless lips. 

‘‘ I was had down there this morning,” she said, pointing 
to the floor with her hand, to indicate the hall underneath. 
“ I was marshaled, lik% a criminal, before my lord, and the 
police, and the lawyers — I know not whom. They made me 
take the oath; they put to me the question that you are do- 
ing. I told them I was unable to testify to the recognition of 
any one; I was too terrified last night to notice, or to retain 
recognition. If I could not answer them, do you think it 
likely I can answer you? You forgot yourself when you asked 
me.” 

“ Forgot myself?” repeated Herbert, wondering more and 
more at her strangeness of manner. 

“ Yes, forgot yourself; or you would not so have spoken 
upon the very heels of my caution. I will forgive this, I will 
pass it over, believing you transgressed it through forgetful- 
ness; but never, never you attempt to open the subject to me 
again, for I would not suffer it with impunity.” 

She quitted finally the room, and Herbert advanced to the 
door and followed her with his eyes. He had never seen her 
like this. Always gay, always light-hearted, always loving 
and confidential to him had she hitherto been. AVhat had 
changed her? What had invoked her present dark mood? A 
contraction of perplexity knitted his brow, as he gazed after 
her; but she did not turn to look at him; at other times her 
nods and her smiles had been his till she was out of sight- She 
sped on to her own apartments, and Herbert Dane quitted the 
Castle. 

That Lady Adelaide’s conduct, touching the affair, was un- 
accountable, all must admit, but upon none had it made so 
deep an impression as upon the police-inspector. After she 
had given her evidence, after Mitchel’s remark that it might 
have been a woman, after Eavensbird appeared to be cleared, 
a most extraordinary idea flashed into the officer’s mind, and 
grew there: was Lady Adelaide the one who had been disput- 
ing on the heights with Captain Dane? 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH 


57 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE PACKMAH. — THE DEATH-ROOM. 

But, ere long, another phase in the strange story was to be 
turned. As Herbert Dane was strolling down toward Danes- 
held from the Castle, he encountered a man well known in 
the locality — better known than trusted,’ indeed. His name 
was Drake, and his ostensible occupation was that of a fisher- 
man, to which he added as much smuggling as he could ac- 
complish with impunity. He took off his blue, woolen cap, 
made after the form of a cotton nightcap, to salute Mr. Her- 
bert Dane. 

“A fine horried tale I've been a hearing of, master^ since 
our boat got in," began he. “ Folks be saying as the cap- 
tain's got murdered, and his body a floating away in the sea; 
Davy J^ones on'y knows to what part. Be it true?" 

“It is an incomprehensible affair altogether, Drake, and 
seems to be shrouded in mystery; but I fear it is only too 
true. The body has not been found." 

“ Who was it attacked him on the heights, master?" 

“ Ah! that's the question," was Herbert's response. 

“ They be saying, down in the village yonder, as it turns 
out not to have been the captain's servant, though the thing 
was first put upon him, and he was took up. " 

“ I know they are saying it; at least I make no doubt they 
are." 

“ Well, now, master, perhaps I can throw some light upon 
this here. 'Twou't be much, though." 

“ You!" returned Herbert, gazing at Drake. 

“ Yes, me. I had been up to Nut Cape, for I wanted to 
have a talk with old — that is — that is, I had been up the road 
past the Castle — " 

“Never mind speaking out, Drake," interrupted Herbert 
Dane, significantly, for the man had got confused when he 
broke off. “ You had been up to Nut Cape to hold one of 
your confabs with that old smuggler, Beecher; that's about 
the English of it. But if I saw you pushing in a boat-load of 
contraband goods under my very eyes, you might do it, for 
me; I have no sway in the place that I should interfere, and 
I concern myself with nobody's business but my own. So go 
orf, fearlessly." 

“ Well, I had been up to old Beecher's," acknowledged 


58 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Drake, “ but only for a yarn— indeed, master, nothing else. 
I stopped there longer than I ought, and was coming back 
again full pelt, afraid the boat might put off without me, when 
I heard voices in dispute.” 

‘‘ Whereabouts?” asked Herbert. 

“ I was on the brow of the heights, had kept close to it all 
the way, and was just abreast o’ them ruins o’ the chapel, be- 
tween it and the sea, when my ear caught the sound. It 
seemed to come from the direction of the Castle, and I cut 
across toward it, thinking I’d spare a moment to see what the 
row was. Standing about midway between the ruins and the 
Castle were two men; the one was speaking in a harsh, com- 
manding tone, and 1 had got a’most up to him when I saw it 
was Captain Dane. Seeing that, of course I cut away again.” 

“ Where do you say this was?” demanded Herbert, pausing 
some moments before he spoke. 

“ Between them ruins and the Castle, a trifle nearer the 
Castle, maybe. ’Tother man was a stranger. ” 

“ A stranger?” 

“ Leastways he was a stranger to me; I’d never seen him 
afore, to my knowledge. A biggish sort of fellow, Avith a 2 iack 
in his hand.” 

“ A pack!” littered Herbert again. 

“ Or som’at that looked like one. It ’twasn’t a pack, ’twas 
a big parcel. I didn’t take much notice of him, seeing the 
other was the captain. The captain was blowing him up.” 

“ In what terms?” cried Herbert, with vivid eagerness. 
“ Can you remember?” 

“ ‘ How dare you, fellow?’ I heard him say, and those were 
all the words I caught distinct. But I heard them both at it, 
railing like, as I steered off.” 

‘‘ What time was this?” , 

“ Well, now, I can’t be positive to a quarter of an hour,” 
was Drake’s reply. ‘‘ ’Twas past eight, and ’twasn’t near 
nine; I should guess it might be a quarter past eight, rather 
more, maybe.” 

Herbert Dane mused; he was revolving the information. 

“Are you sure, Drake?” he asked, “that it was not 
Eavensbird?” 

“ Be I a otter, master, to have no sense in my eyes?” was 
Drake’s response. “ ’Twasn’t no more like Bavensbird than 
’twas like me or you. ’Twas a chap rising five foot ten, with 
broad shoulders.” r , 

“You must speak of this affair oefore Lord Dane.” 

I was on my way to the Castle now to do it; I knows my 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


50 


duty. Not but what I'd rather go ten miles t'other way than 
face his lordship." 

Herbert Dane laughed. 

‘‘ He is not so lenient to you smugglers as you would like, 
and you fear him. But, if you can help his lordship to trace 
out this assaulter of his son, it will no doubt atone for some 
old scores, Drake." * 

“Any ways, it's my duty, having seen what I did see. 
And I'm not agoing to shirk it, master." 

He proceeded toward the Castle, and Herbert Dane con- 
tinued his way in the direction of Danesheld. But scarcely 
'had he taken many steps when a slight bend in the road 
brought him to a milestone, hidden from his view previously; 
and half-seated upon it, deep in thought, was Eavensbird. 

“ You are in a brown study, Eavensbird." 

The man positively started. He had been so buried with 
himself as to be oblivious to the approach, and the voice 
aroused him abruptly. 

“ I was absent in last night's work, sir; that is, my spirit 
was," was Eavensbird's reply. “I did not hear you come 
up." 

“ Eavensbird," returned Herbert Dane, “ if a man has been 
led into an error, the least he can do is to acknowledge it, 
when his mind opens to the conviction that it tvas an error. I 
• regret having avowed to you my belief that you were the de- 
stroyer of your master. " 

A peculiar smile, somewhat cynical in its nature, flitted over 
the features of Eavensbird. 

“ I find that another attacked Captain Dane on the heights 
last night; at any rate, that Captain Dane and another were 
having a broil there together, about the time of the catastro- 
phe; therefore it is but fair to infer that that other was the 
offender." 

The smile on Eavensbird's face was exchanged for a look 
of astonishment. 

“ Who?" he uttered. 

“ Some strange man, with a pack in his hand. I should 
imagine it must have been a traveling hawker, or person of 
that class; such men have been known, before now,’ to com- 
mit evil deeds. He may have tried to extort money from Cap- 
tain Dane, and, finding he could not, have proceeded to vio- 
lence. One fact appears to be indisputable; that they were 
giving vent to angry passions, one against. the other." 

“Who saw or heard this?" asked Eavensbird. “You, 


60 


LiDT ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“I?” echoed Herbert Dane. ‘‘What a very senseless 
question! Had I witnessed it— or indeed anything else con- 
nected with the affair— should I have kept it to myself? Ho, 
Eavensbird; had I known this, I should not have been so hasty 
to indulge suspicion of you. ” 

“ Then who was it?” somewhat impatiently resumed Eavens- 
bird. 

“ Drake. The man stopped me a few minutes ago to tell 
me what he had seen. He was on his way to the Castle to de- 
clare it to my lord; and he has gone on there now.” 

“ And he says it was a stranger?” 

“ A man he did not know, and had never seen before. A 
big, bulky fellow with a pack. Just the description one is to 
expect of those itinerant peddlers.” 

“ Drake has been tardy in declaring this,” sarcastically re- 
turned Eavensbird. 

“ Hot at all. He could not declare it out at sea, where he 
has been all night. His boat is but just in — as I understand 
— and he knew nothing till he landed of the accident to Cap- 
tain Dane.” 

Eavensbird did not reply. His eyes seemed to be fixed in 
vacancy, as if in thought. Herbert proceeded. 

“ When you gave utterance to the expression that you could 
place your finger upon the offender, I believed you were speak- 
ing in vain boastfulness, if not in deceit. I conclude now 
that you must have been aware of this encounter of Captain 
Dane’s with the stranger, and alluded to the latter when you 
spoke. Was it so?” 

“ I — I was not aware — that — that Captain Dane — I did not 
know of any encounter of his with a stranger,” replied Eavens- 
bird, in a slow, hesitating tone, his eyes still bearing the ap- 
pearance of a man in a dream. 

Herbert Dane scanned him searchingly. 

“ Possibly this was was no stranger to your master.” 

^ “ Possibly not,’’ was the reply of Eavensbird, waking from 
his reverie. “ It is scarcely probable that a stranger would 
attack him to his death.” 

“ ^ ou speak in riddles, Eavensbird. Did you allude to this 
man or not, when you spoke?” 

“ Sir,” respectfully returned Eavensbird, “ you must par- 
don me for declining to answer. ” 

And nothing more could Herbert Dane get from him; and 
the parting, in consequence, though friendly, was not to the 
former satisfactory. 

Drake, meanwhile, reached the Castle and disclosed his tale 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 61 

to Lord Dane. However loose may have been the fisherman^s 
antecedents, in the way of smuggling and other matters, 
bringing him under the displeasure and surveillance of the lord, 
that was no reason for his present account being doubted. In- 
deed, that he was but declaring the truth was evident even to 
the lynx-eyed Lawyer Apperly, who was summoned to the 
conference. The police also were summoned, and Drake 
had to repeat his tale to them. Should he know the man 
again? they asked him. Drake was not sure: not by his face, 
he thought, for he did not take much note of it: if he knew 
him again it would be by his shoulders and the pack. Not 
very conclusive distinctive marks, decided the inspector. 

A search was set on foot — as active as could be supposed to 
be undertaken by village police, which is not saying a great 
deal. Inquiries were made at Danesheld and its environs, ex- 
tending to the neighboring towns around and past them, as to 
whether a man answering the description had been seen. But 
all to no avail : nobody appeared to have observed any such 
traveler. A farm-laborer, at work about six miles off, de- 
posed that he had noticed a man the afternoon of the accident 
going toward Danesheld, a “ brown man, with a sort o’ box 
on his back.^^ 

“ And big shoulders? questioned the police officer. 

“ Noa, not he,^^ was the answer; ‘‘ he didnT seem to ha^ 
got no shoulders. A little under-sized chap, it were, no bigger 
nor a weasel. 

So that description did not tally. Neither did any other 
that the police could find out, and the affair remained involved 
in mystery. 

There is an old saying that misfortune never comes alone. 
Lord Dane wrote to his eldest son to acquaint him with the 
melancholy fate of his brother, and requested him to return 
home. For years there had been an unpleasant estrangement 
between the brothers, but with death these estrangements, or 
rather the remembrance of them, generally end. Harry Dane 
had been a favorite son: Geoff ry, the eldest, a cold, haughty, 
overbearing man by nature, had resented the partiality of his 
parents, his own disposition magnifying the predilection ten- 
fold, and he had now been for some time abroad. The hand- 
some fortune Harry had dropped into, a young man, had also 
been a sore point with the Honorable Geoffry: and, altogether, 
he preferred to live a life of estrangement from his kindred. 
His letters home were few and far between; and at the pres- 
ent moment Lord Dane did not know precisely where to address 
him; he had been in Paris, but had spoken of leaving it for 


62 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Italy, for Malta, and other places in rotation. So Lord Dane 
sent his letter to their banker's in London, who was kept cog- 
nizant of the movements of Geoffry Dane, giving them in- 
structions to forward it without delay. 

They did so; and the days, nay the weeks passed on, but 
still Mr. Dane arrived not. Lord Dane grew angry. “ Geolfry 
might have written, at least," he observed to his wife, ‘‘ if he 
did not choose to come. " 

Alas! he came all too soon. Not himself; but what re- 
mained of him. News arrived first: a letter written by his 
personal attendant, who was a native of Daiiesheld, 

Mr, Dane had been suddenly attacked in the neighborhood 
of Home by one of those fevers common to hot and unhealthy 
climates, and in three days was dead. The letter, written by 
Lord Dane, and d uly forwarded by the London bankers, had 
never reached him (it might be traveling haK over the conti- 
nent after him then), and he had died in ignorance of the fate 
of his brother. Even then, as Lord Dane perused the un- 
happy letter, his body was on its way to England for inter- 
ment, having been embarked on board a steamer at Civita 
Vecchia. 

Very sad, very grievous were the tidings to Dane Castle; 
and the flag on it floated half-mast high — the custom when a 
death occurred in the family. But a little span since it had 
so floated for Harry Dane, and now it was floating for GeoSry! 
Lord and Lady Dane were bowed down to the very earth with 
grief; they were their only children; and whispers went 
abroad that her ladyship would not be long after them: people 
said they could see the “ change for death " in her. 

On a gay morning in the beginning of May a hearse, whose 
sable, mournful plumes contrasted unpleasingly with the 
world's sunny brightness, arrived at Dane Castle, having 
brought something inside it from Southampton. The burden 
was taken from within it and deposited in a certain apartment 
of the Castle called the death-room. 

Why was it called by so unpropitious a name? the reader 
will inquire. Simply because it was a room consecrated to the 
dead. _ When any of the family died they were placed there 
to await interment, lie in state, it may be said, and the public 
were admitted to see the sight. The apartment was never 
used for any other purpose, though occasionally opened to be 
aired: a large, cold, gray room it was — perfectly empty, with 
high windows and a stone floor. Tradition went that when 
any one of the Danes was about to leave the world that floor 
would become damp in patches; not damp all over, as it did 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. G3 

in wet weather — but they were very stupid who believed in any 
such nonsensical superstition. 

The trestles were brought from their hiding-closet and set 
up in the middle, of the room, and the coffins were placed 
upon them. Lord Dane was wheeled in in his chair; Lady 
Dane glided in and stood by his side, both struggling to sup- 
press their grief until they should be alone to indulge it. 
Some of the upper servants were also present; and a work- 
man, purposely summoned to the Castle, prepared to unseal 
the coffins. 

At that moment Wilkins, the servant who had accompanied 
tllb body from abroad, he who had written to Lord Dane, 
stepped forward, placed his hand on the man^s tools to arrest 
him, and then addressed Lord Dane. 

“ My lord — I beg your pardon — but is it a safe thing to 
do, think you? May there not be danger? He died of malig- 
nant fever.^^ 

A disagreeable feeling fell upon all, and some drew involun- 
tarily a step back. Lord Dane reflected. 

“ I do not fear infection, he presently said. “ Let those 
who do fear it retire; but I will see the remains of my son. 
Stories have been told, before now, of — of — others being sub- 
stituted for those supposed to be dead. 

Wilkins turned to Lord Dane, astonishment on his face and 
tears in his eyes. 

“ My lord, is it possible you can suspect — 

‘'No reflection on you, Wilkins,^’ interrupted his lordship; 
“ I did not mean to imply any. There is a difference between 
satisfaction from conviction of the mind, and satisfaction from 
ocular demonstration. I have no moral doubt whatever that 
my dear son Geoff ry does lie within that coffin; nevertheless, 

I choose to be indisputably assured of the fact. Ketire,^' he 
somewhat sharply added to the servants; “ and do you, •’^ nod- 
ding to the mechanic, “proceed with your work. Had you 
not also better leave us?” 

The last words were addressed to Lady Dane. She simply 
shook her head and waited. 

It was a long process, for the lead had to be unsoldered. 
But it was accomplished at last. The domestics had quitted 
the room, all save Bruff. 

Lord Dane looked at him in a questioning manner. 

“ / have no fear, my lord. Allow me to see the last of poy 
Mr. Geoff ry.” 

Geoffry Dane it was, unmistakably; and less changed than 
might have been expected under the circumstances. A long. 


64 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

yearning look from all of them, a few stifled sobs from the 
childless mother, and the cofiins were reclosed forever. Then 
they left the room, and the public— those who chose to come 
— were admitted. 

A sort of fright, so to term it, took place that^ night in the 
house, one that caused some unpleasant commotion. It hap- 
pened that Sophie, Lady Adelaide's maid, was suffering from 
a violent cough, which had clung to her some weeks, and was 
especially troublesome at night. She was in the habit of tak- 
ing a soothing drink for it made of herbs, or, as she called it 
in her own language, tisane, which she took regularly u^yjo 
bed with her. On this night she forgot it and would not return 
for it; for she, in conjunction with the rest, felt nervous when 
going through the long passages, considering what was in the 
house. But Sophie's cough proved to be unusually severe. 
No sleep could she get; and at length she rose from her bed 
determined to brave ghostly fancies and lonely corridors, and 
fetch the tisane. Wrapping herself up she started, carrying 
a hand-lamp. 

Away she scattered down the stairs. Her road to the house- 
keeper's parlor, where the drink had been left, lay past the 
death-room. How Sophie 'flew by its door, how her heart beat 
and her skin crept, she would not like to have told. In com- 
mon with the generality of French of her grade ancLclass, she 
was given to superstitious fears touching the presence of the 
dead, more so than are the English of the lower orders. But 
there's an old proverb, “ More haste, less speed," and poor 
Sophie received an exemplification of it; for so great was her 
haste, that in passing the very spot, the dreaded door, she lost 
one of her slippers. With a half cry of terror at the stoppage 
there, Sophie snatched it up in her hand, did not wait to put 
it on, but tore on to the parlor. 

The drink was inside the fender, where it had been placed 
to retain its warmth. Sophie took up the jug and put it on 
the table for a moment while she drew breath (short with the 
running and the fright), and put on the refractory slipper. 
She was stooping down to accomplish the latter when a noise 
close above her head interrupted her. 

It was nothing but the striking of the time-piece on the 
mantel-shelf — two strokes — one, two — telling the half hour — 
the half hour after midnight. But Sophie's nerves were un- 
hinged, and it startled her beyond self-control. She shrieked; 
she grasped the nearest thing to her, which happened to be a 
chair, she hid her face upon it, and she wondered how in the 
world she could muster courage to get back to her room. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


65 


Back she must get somehow; for the longer she stayed the 
worse she grew. “ If ever I leave my tisane down-stairs 
again,” quoth Sophie, “ may a ghost run away with me, that's 
all!” She took up the jug, drew her cloak round her, and 
began to speed back again; not very fast this time for fear of 
spilling the tisane. 

Poor Sophie! the real fright was coming. As she gained 
the corridor ih which was situated the death-room, her hair 
nearly stood on end and her skin was as a goose's skin, quiv- 
ering and cold. A perfect horror grew upon her in that mo- 
ment of passing the dreaded door. 

And well it might. She did gain it; how, she hardly knew; but 
instead of rushing past it with her head turned the other way, 
some power seemed to impel her head toward it. If you ever 
experienced the same uncontrollable midnight terror, reader, 
you will understand it. Sophie's eyes irresistibly and in spito 
of her will turned right upon the door, fascinated as by the 
evil power of the basilisk; had her very life depended on it, 
she could not have kept them away. And in the same in- 
stant, a hollow, wailing sound, like a groan broke from within 
the stillness of the room. 

Nearly paralyzed, nearly bereft of her senses, Sophio fell 
against the door, and the movement caused it to open as 
though it had been imperfectly latched: yet Sophie knew that 
the door had been securely locked the previous evening at 
dusk. But for the door-post she might have fallen with her 
head inside it — that saved her. There came another groan 
and what looked like a flood of white light from the room; 
and the miserable Sophie, breaking into the most unearthly 
shrieks and yells flew along the corridor, dropping the jug and 
the tisane with a crash and a splash! That those hermetic 
solderings and fastenings had come undone and what they con- 
fined down had risen and was after her was the least of her im- 
aginings. 

Out came the terrified servants; peal upon peal rang the 
bell of Lord Dane; Lady Adelaide opened her door and stood 
at it, her face as white as her maid's. 

When they gathered in the account of the shaking Sophie 
some of the braver of the domestics proceeded to the death- 
room, and there the cause was made clear. 

Kneeling on the stone floor beside the coffin, lost to all out- 
ward things save her grief, a white dressing-gown only thrown 
over her night-clothes, was Lady Dane. The groans of pain, 
of sorrow, had come from her; and the “ w;hite light ” as 
Sophie had described it, from her lamp. Not for a long 


66 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

while— a whole hour— could they prevail upon the unhappy 
lady to return to her own chamber: in vain they urged upon 
her that she would surely catch her death of cold. What 
matters it?” she murmured. ‘‘ Harry first, Geofiry next; 
both gone, both cut ofi in their prime; what signifies death or 
anything else that may come to me?” 

Geoffry was buried in the family vault amidst much pomp 
and ceremony, as befitted, according to the world’s usages, the 
late heir of the Danes. Lord Dane was too ill to be taken to 
the funeral, and the chief mourner was Herbert, now the pre- 
sumptive successor to the title and to the wide and ricli 
domains. 


CHAPTER VIL 

WHAT THE SEA CASTS UP. — THE FLAG HALF-MAST HIGH. 

The words spoken by the servants, perhaps heedlessly, that 
their lady might be ‘‘ catching her death,” were borne out 
more literally than such words generally are. Whether it was 
the kneeling on the stone floor in the chilly night; whether it 
was the scantiness of the apparel she had thrown on; or the 
rising from her bed, hot — for that she had previously been in 
bed there was no doubt — certain it is that violent cold and in- 
flammation attacked Lady Dane. The medical men called it 
pleurisy; less scientific people inflammation of the chest: no 
matter for the proper term. Lady Dane was in imminent 
danger. 

She lay in her spacious bedroom — so redolent of comfort; 
its fire regulated that the • temperature might be of. a certain 
heat, its little luxuries ready at hand. The servants, moving 
softly in their list slippers, were anxious and attentive; the 
doctors were unremitting; the neighborhood was concerned. 
Oould life have been kept in Lady Dane by earthly means 
they were not lacking; but when the time comes for its depart- 
ure, who may prolong its stay? Lady Dane was dying; and 
she knew it. An eminent physician had been summoned from 
town; he had paid his visit that morning, and had gone back 
again. A rumor spread in the servants’ hall — ^though whence 
originating and how they could have got hold of it they them- 
selves would have been' at a loss to tell— that the great Lon- 
don man had pronounced it in confidence to Mr. Wild a case 
without hope. 

“ I said it from the first,” wailed Sophie. “ I knew that 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


67 


when two died out of the family, the third would not be long 
after them.^^ 

‘‘ What^s that, Mam^selle Sophie cried Mr. Bruff. 

“ What^s that!^^ sharply retorted Sophie: “ it^s a well 
known certainty to anybody who keep their eyes open. I 
have remarked it hundreds of times in my own country; and 
I dare say you have in yours if you'll only put your recollection 
to work and cast it backward. Let two out of the same fam- 
ily die pretty near together, and you may look soon for the 
third interment. It's safe to come, if not directly, before the 
twelvemonth's up. ' ' 

“ Nonsense," said Bruff. 

“ Is it nonsense? You just look abroad and take notice, if 
you've never noticed it before. You can begin with this house- 
hold," added Sophie, tapping her foot on the floor to give 
force to her argument. “ The captain was the flrst, Mr. 
Dane was the second, and her ladyship will be the third. 
When news came that Mr. Dane was dead, I said to myself, 
‘ Then who'll be the next?' — for it came across my brain in 
the same minute that another there would be. And I feared 
it might be my lord: I never thought of my lady." 

“ Perhaps there'll be a fourth!" sarcastically returned the 
incredulous Brulf. 

“ Sophie's right," put in the housekeeper; “ I have observed 
it myself many times. When two go off quietly out of a fam- 
ily, a third generally follows." 

If 1 could lower myself to think such trash, I'd never say 
it," rebuked the indignant butler. “ Mam'selle Sophie may 
be excused: she's young: but when folks have lived to your 
age and mine, ma'am, they might know better. It is to be 
hoped her ladyship will recover." 

‘‘ Then if she does recover, it will be his lordship that will 
go," persisted the undaunted Sophie. “But I don't think 
slie is going to recover: it is not in her face. I may not be as 
old as you, Mr. Bruff, by twenty good years, and I shall bo 
thirty my next birthday; but if I were you, I'd never boast of 
my age until I had used my powers of observation to more 
inirpose. Any way, two have gone, and the other will follow. 
You'll see." 

Adelaide Errol sat alone with her aunt, ostensibly attend- 
ing on lier, should she want anything: though indeed she 
seemed more buried within herself and her own reflections 
than thinking of Lady Dane. Since the night when she had 
been so terrified in the ruins, a great change had overtaken 
Adelaide. No longer was she the gay, careless girl of for- 


68 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


merly: her step was languid, her spirits were unequal, her man- 
ner was subdued. In her appearance, also, there was an alter- 
ation for the worse: her brilliant color had faded to paleness, 
and her rounded form had grown thin. She sat in an invalid- 
chair before the fire (her aunt’s, previous to Lady Dane’s tak- 
ing to her bed) her cheek was pressed upon her right hand, 
and her eyes were fixed on vacancy. 

“Adelaide.” 

It was Lady Dane who spoke; and Adelaide sprung up with 
a start, abruptly aroused to outward things. “Yes, aunt. 
What can I do for you?” 

“ Nothing just now,” feebly replied Lady Dane, whose 
voice was scarcely audible for weakness; and had her medical 
attendants been present, they would have taken care she did 
not try to make it audible. “ Why are you looking so sad, 
Adelaide? What were you thinking of?” 

A vivid blush rose to the cheeks of Lady Adelaide. 

“ It is a sad time, aunt,” she answered; and the plea was 
too true a one for Lady Dane to suspect its evasion. 

“ This strange sadness — I call it strange, Adelaide, in you — 
has continued since the death of Harry,” pursued L^y Dane. 
“ Is it caused his death?” 

A blush as vivid as the previous one but more painful. 
Lady Adelaide, however, remained silent. 

“ Child, I shall not long be here; “ and I would ask — ” 

“ Oh, aunt!” interrupted Adelaide, in a tone of pain. 

“Not long,” calmly repeated Lady Dane: “a few days, 
perhaps but a few hours. Do not distress yourself. It causes 
me no distress: quite the contrary: I am glad to go. I have 
— I humbly hope — a Friend in heaven, and he will welcome 
me to his Father’s home. Oh, Adelaide! the world has be- 
come sad to me: I shall be glad to go.” 

Tears were raining from the eyes of Lady Adelaide. There 
was a pause, and then the invalid resumed: 

“ But I want now to speak of yourself whilst I have power left 
for it. This unaccountable sadness — whence does it proceed? 
I do not think it is caused by grief for Harry’s death.” 

“ It — it — was a dreadful death, aunt,” shivered Adelaide, 
shunning the question. 

Lady Dane clasped her hands together. 

“ Ay, a dreadful death; a dreadful death! Still, not one to 
have made this lasting impression upon you; for, Adelaide, I 
suspect you did not love him. ” 

“We all loved him,” Adelaide was beginning, but Lady 
Dane arrested her words. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


69 


“ Child, I am dying. If there must needs still be conceal- 
ment between us, in these my last hours, at least let there not 
be equivocation. I believed that you did not care for Harry: 
I believed that you loved, and do still love ^Herbert — Geoffry, 
as we must call him now. Though I can not quite remem- 
ber to say Geoff ry so soon,^^ added Lady Dane, sadly: “it 

• puts me too much in mind of my own Geoff ry who is gone. 

Adelaide burst into fresh tears. 

‘ ‘ Tell me the truth, child. Why should you conceal it 
now? Herbert was no match for you then: Harry was, and 
he idolized you: but things have changed. Herbert will suc- 
ceed his uncle, and there can be no barrier to your union with 
him: but I should like to be satisfied how it will be before I 
go. Speak the truth, Adelaide. 

Adelaide Errol was visibly agitated, as she bent over her 
aunt, for the latter had taken her hands and was drawing her 
closer. Speak she must: there was no escape; but even Lady 
Dane, dying as she was, observed how violently her heart beat. 
“ Aunt, I do not wish to marry Herbert Dane,^^ 

“ What!^^ uttered Lady Dane, in her astonishment. 

“ I will not marry him. I — do not — she spoke here with 
remarkable hesitation — “ like him well enough. 

Lady Dane regarded her searchingly: a suspicion came over 
her that Adelaide imperfectly understood; not the present 
conversation, but the future position of Herbert: for that 
Adelaide had long been wrapt up in Herbert was her settled 
conviction. 

“ Child, are you mistaking his circumstances — his future? 
He will be Lord Dane. 

“ If he were to be king of England I would not marry 
him,^^ vehemently spoke Lady Adelaide. 

“ Then — is it possible? — did you really love Harry ?^^ was 
the slow, doubting response. 

• Another flow of tears, and a softened answer. 

“ Aunt, if Harry could rise from the dead, I would be glad 
to marry him: I would rather many him than any one else in 
the world. 

“How I have been mistaken uttered Lady Dane, and 
Adelaide hid her face amid the bed-clothes as she listened. 
Lady Dane thought her manner appeared very singular, and 
a doubt crossed her mind whether there was not some mystery 
yet to fathom. 

Whether or not, it was not fated that Lady Dane should 
unravel it. During their conversation an unusual stir and 
noise had been gradually arising in the road; and now pene- 


70 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


trating to the inside of the Castle. Unnoticed at first, the 
commotion was now so great as to attract the attention, if not 
the alarm, of Lady Dane. Tumult like that within the well- 
conducted Castle! 

“Adelaide, go you and see what it can be. Bring me 
word. ” 

Away went Adelaide: thankful, if the truth were known, 
to be dismissed from that bed-side. A dozen fishermen or so 
were congregated in the hall, having carried in a burden cov- 
ered up, on a sort of hand-barrow. The servants were sur- 
rounding them. Lord Dane was present in his chair, strag- 
glers, attracted by the news, made bold to push into the Cas- 
tle. Altogether, it was a scene of confusion. Questions were 
poured on the fishermen, and they were all answering at once, 
in their loud voices and rude patois. 

Adelaide gathered in the sense of their words. What motive 
impelled her to act as she was doing none could tell; prob- 
ably she herself could not have told; possibly, in that 
moment of terror, she was unconscious of her action. A 
moment of unspeakable terror it evidently was to her: her lips 
were blanched and drawn back from her teeth, her features 
wore the hue of the grave: she glided amidst the crowd, laid 
her hand upon the barrow, and was lifting up its covering. 

A fisherman darted forward and unceremoniously pulled 
her back. 

“ It^s no sight for her,^^ he said, turning to Lord Dane, “ it^s 
no sight for women, young or old: ye may judge, my lord, 
that it is not!'^ 

Then, for the first time. Lord Dane observed that Adelaide 
was present. 

“ Co away/^ he said to her sadly, but imperatively; “ what 
brought you here?^^ 

“ YeM never get it out o^ your sight, ^oung madame, all 
yer life aTer,” spoke up another man, who had advanced to 
keep guard of the barrow; “ and it^s stark naked, beside. 

“ Leave the hall, Adelaide: are you mad?^^ sternly reiterat- 
ed Lord Dane. 

The fiushing crimson had come to her cheeks now, and the 
perspiration broke out on her brow, as she hurriedly obeyed. 

“ I think I must have been mad,^^ she repeated to herself. 
“ What possessed me?^^ 

Mechanically, scarcely conscious of what she was about, she 
re-entered the chamber of Lady Dane. The latter had con- 
trived to struggle into a sitting posture in bed, and her e3’es 
eagerly turned upon Adelaide their questioning light. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 71 

“ What is it? what is it?^^ she uttered, for the young lady 
made no response to the mute questioning. 

“ I — I do not know, aunt/' 

“What is it?" repeated Lady Dane. “You do know: I 
see it in your countenance. " 

“ They said I was not to tell you," replied Adelaide — the 
most senseless rejoinder she could have made, proving how 
uncollected was her mind. 

“ Instinct has told me," said Lady Dane, with a gasping 
sob. “ They have found, and brought home, the body of 
Harry." 

“ it is so, aunt," acknowledged Adelaide. 

“ But — at this distance of time — so long in the water — how 
can they recognize it?" 

“ I gathered in the purport of what they were saying, 
aunt," returned Adelaide, evidently speaking with a painful 
effort, “ that it was all but unrecognizable, that they know it 
by the teeth and a mark on the arm. Eavensbird, who came 
in with them, says he could swear to it by the mark; and they 
were -saying that it could not have been all this time in the 
water." 

“ Eavensbird! And Lord Dane suffered him to enter?" 

“ There is great confusion, aunt. Perhaps he may have 
been unnoticed, until he spoke." 

The body had been found a few miles further off by the fish- 
ermen, and they brought it to Danesheld in their boat, never 
giving a thought to its being that of Captain Dane. But — as 
fate had it — when they reached the shore, Eavensbird haj)- 
pened to be strolling about there. He immediately pronounced 
it to be the body of his late master, knowing it, as Adelaide 
had said, by the teeth and the mark on the arm; and it was 
borne to the Castle. 

An inquest was held upon it, and the verdict returned was, 

“ Willful murder against some person or persons unknown." 
A rumor went about the place, and obtained credence, that 
had it not been for the episode, related by Drake, of the man 
with the pack, it might have been “ Willful murder against 
Eichard Eavensbird," in spite of the testified alibi. 

The body was buried in the Dane vault, and people mourned 
more truly for the Honorable William Henry Dane than they 
had done for the heir, the Honorable Geoffry. But, the very 
day of the interment, another died, to be mourned for — Lady 
Dane. It seemed that the flag was forever floating, half-mast 
high now, over the Castle. 

All these events, following one upon another with succes- 


72 


LADT ADELAID-E^S oath. 


sion so rapid, told upon the shattered frame, the broken health 
of Lord Lane. He was unable now to quit his chamber; and 
very soon, it was thought, he would be unable to quit liis bed. 
Herbert Lane — Geoffry Lane, as he was henceforth to be 
called — once again, and for the third time, had to perform the 
office of chief mourner; and on his return from the funeral he 
was summoned to the presence of the old lord. 

A favorite name in the Lane family was that of Geoffry. 
From the first creation of the barony, more than two- thirds of 
the lords h^ borne it, and it was held (superstition again!) 
that those who had so borne it had been more lucky than the 
rest. Herbert Lane, who was the son of the Honorable Her- 
bert Lane, and grandson to the preceding peer who had 
reigned, had been christened Geoffry Herfcrt; his friends 
calling him by his second name, Herbert, that his name might 
not clash with that of his cousin, Geoffry, the heir. How, 
however, that the succession lapsed to him, he was henceforth 
to be, not Herbert, but Geoffry. 

He left his hat with its sweeping band in the library, and 
proceeded to attend the summons. He could not avoid re- 
marking as he went in how strangely altered and ill Lord 
Lane looked. 

“ Are you worse, uncle he involuntarily asked. Lon^t 
you feel well?^^ 

“ I do not know that I am much worse, Geoffry, but as to 
feeling well, that I shall never do again. I may be called 
away at any moment, and it is necessary that I should ‘ set my 
house in order. ^ For this purpose — I should be more correct 
in saying in pursuance of this purpose — I have caused you to 
come to me. According to the arbitrary decrees of fate — how 
capricious, how unlooked-for they are! — you will be the seven- 
teenth Baron Lane. Geoffry, I have a charge to leave you 
as such — a charge above all other charges.’^ 

“ I will fulfill it, sir, if it be in my power.'’ 

The old peer stretched out his hand from his easy- chair, in 
which he was propped, and laid it upon the wrist of his 
nephew, slowly and impressively. Geoffry bent a little nearer 
to the anxious face. 

“ I charge you, by all your hopes of happiness, that you 
never cease in striving to bring to light the destroyer of 
Harry,” solemnly said Lord Dane. “ Spare no means, no 
energies, no trouble; let not idleness overtake you in vour 
task; be not tempted by want of success to relinquish it. 
Should the years go on, ay, until you are an old man, and 
nothing have turned up, still do not flag; a conviction is 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 73 

upon me that search will not be always in vain. You hear 
me, GeofFry?^^ 

“ Oh, yes, I hear.’ ^ 

“ Let your suspicions, your secret watchings, be directed to 
one quarter in particular; for, that the guilt hes in it, there is 
no doubt. Never suffer your surveillance to be off that man. " 

“ Of whom do you speak, sir?” inquired Gooffry, in a tone 
of surprise. 

“ Eavensbird. Of whom else do you suppose I speak? 
Why do you knit your brow? why do you look displeased — in- 
credulous?” 

“ Pardon me, sir, if I do not agree vrith you; though, if I 
did knit my brow, it was with perplexity, not displeasure. I 
can not get over the fact that the ^sence of Eavensbird from 
the heights at the time of the occurrence has been credibly tes- 
tified to; and it is a physical impossibility for a man to be m 
two places at once.' Neither can I keep my suspicions from' 
dwelling on that other, that packman.” 

“ Pshaw!” returned Lord Dane, impatiently, shaking his 
head, “ I have never attached credit to that tale of the pack- 
man. I do not say it did not take place, the encounter, dis- 
pute — whatever it may have been — as Drake describes it; 
but, as to that fellow’s having attacked Harry to death, the 
notion is absurd. Some traveling bagman, passing accident- 
ally, who importuned Harry to purchase a cotton pocket- 
handkerchief, or a horn-knife to cut bread and cheese, and 
Harry rode the high horse at being accosted, and drove the 
fellow away. It was nothing more, rely upon it. No; whoever 
dealt out his death to Harry, that night, had a motive in it. 
It was Eavensbird; I tell you it was Eavensbird, Geoffry, and 
I charge you look to him.” 

Lord Dane ceased. He appeared to have done with the 
subject, and a long pause ensued, each appearing buried in 
his own reflections. It was Geoffry who broke it. 

What report is this, that I hear, uncle— that Lady Ade- 
laide goes back to Scotland?” 

“ It is so decided. It would not be expedient for her to re- 
main here, now her aunt is gone. Under present circum- 
stances, it would scarcely be expedient, a wild, random girl like 
Adelaide — think of her running out, mad-oap fashion, on to 
the ruins that ill-fated night! — but in the uncertain state of 
my life, it is not to be thought of. When death shall overtake 
me — and it is not far off: it is not, Geoffry, disbelieving as you 
may look — fancy what would be the position of Adelaide, were 
she still here. You, taking up your abode here, the Castle’s 


74 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

master, and an unprotected young lady in it! A pretty affair 
that would be!^^ 

A flush illumined Geoffry's features, symbol of his deep, 
passionate love for Adelaide, and he turned his face to hide it. 

‘‘ It would be time enough for her to go back to Scotland 
then, sir — should the catastrophe occur. 

You talk like a boy,*^ retorted Lord Dane. Is the Lady 
Adelaide Errol one to be subjected to the possible comments 
of a scandalous world? She must quit the Castle before I do. 

You can not think, sir,^^ said Geoff ry, in agitation — he 
may possibly have misunderstood Lord Dane^s remarks — 
“ that I would do aught to bring scandal on Lady Adelaide? 
I would guard her from it with my life. 

The proud old peer turned his face upon him in all its 
haughty severity. “ What do you mean, nephew? ‘ If I 
thought you capable of bringing scandal on Lady Adelaide?^ 
-Did I deem you capable of but imagining such, I would shoot 
you there as you stand before me, rather than let so dishonor- 
able a craven live to succeed to the coronet of Dane.^^ 

Geoffry felt that he was being misunderstood, and suffered 
the point to drop. “ W'^here is Adelaide going to reside?^^ he 
asked. With whom? I th9Ught she had no relatives. 

“ She has scarcely any. Some cousin of her late father ^s is 
willing to receive her. A Mrs. Grant, living in Werthshire.^^ 

“ Mrs. Grant,^^ repeated Geoffry. “ I have heard of her. 
A widow with a very bare jointure and a house full of chil- 
dren. Will Lady Adelaide like that* after Dane Castle.-’' 

“ Necessity has no law," observed Lord Dane. Of course 
I shall take care that Adelaide is no burden to Mrs. Grant 
now or for the future. Were her brother what he ought to be, 
he might settle down and afford her a home, but Kirkdale is 
as wild as a March hare.' * 

Will Lady Adelaide like going to Mrs. Grant's?" repeated 
Geoffry. 

“ Like it, no!" returned Lord Dane. ‘‘ She has never had 
the tears out of her eyes since the plan was mooted. But she 
acquiesces in its expediency, seeing there is nowhere else where 
she can apply for a home." 

“I think — -I think — uncle, will you pardon my saying it, 
will you sanction my saying it, that she might be happier with 
me?" 

Geoffry spoke in a low tone of emotion, the color coming 
and going in his fair face. Life to him, without Adelaide 
Errol, would be a dreary prospect. 


LADY ADELATDE’s OATH, 75 

“ Happier wicli you/^ echoed Lord Dane, in a quick tone. 
“ In what way?” 

As my wife.” 

“ Look you here, Geoff ry; it is of no use for us to converse 
at cross purposes, so I will be explicit. You can not suppose 
that since the death of my sons I have never cast my thoughts 
to the future, and to those who are left. Now, your aunt, my 
poor departed wife, took a notion in her head long ago that 
Adelaide cared for you more than she did for Ilariy. For my 
part, I deemed Lady Dane must be mistaken; I deemed it was 
altogether too absurd to suspect that Adelaide should do so, 
considering she had freely consented to be Harry’s wife. But 
Harry went; Geoffry went; and you were left: and I told 
Lady Dane that if her idea was correct, you and Adelaide 
could now marry. Truth to say, I would more cordially have 
given you my approval than I did to my son: for I do not like 
cousins marrying, and to yoiusi^e is no blood relation.” 

“ Well, sir?” eagerly cried Geoffry, whose eyes had been 
sparkling. 

“ Well. Two or three nights before my wife died, she told 
me we had all been wrong — or rather that she had been 
wrong. That it was Harr^ to whom Adelaide had been really 
attached, and that she never would consent to be addressed by 
you. Therefore, I imagine, if you are indulging dreams of 
Adelaide you are nourishing a chimera. ” 

A proud, self-satisfied smile passed over the face of Geof- 
fry. He knew whom she had really loved. 

Lord Dane put an end to the interview. A little thing 
fatigued him now, and he dismissed Geoffry. 

Geoffry proceeded to the drawing-room, and there sat Ade- 
laide. Very sad, very lonely did she look there in her mourn- 
ing robes, the only inmate of the Castle save its invalid mas- 
ter. She rose from her seat to leave the room as Geoffry 
entered. 

“ Adelaide, am I scaring you away?” 

“ Oh, no,” she answered, with a confused blush, and down 
she §at again. 

I hope you are better than you have been of late,” he con- 
tinued. “ You have allowed me to see so little of you that 
we seem like strangers.” 

“ I have not been very well, and I have been much occupied 
with my poor aunt. ” 

‘‘I hear it is in contemjilation that you should return to 
Scotland?” 

“ I believe it is.” 


7C> 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


“ But it is most strange that you should do so/' he impul- 
sively rejoined. ‘‘ You may as well bury yourself alive as be- 
come an inmate of Mrs. Grant's undesirable home!" 

A change passed over her face, and but for a strong effort 
the tears would have rained from her eyes. Purgatory itself 
would have scarcely seemed more terrible in prospective to 
Lady Adelaide, than did Mrs. Grant's house. 

“ Adelaide," he resumed, in a low tone, “ I have now come 
from leaving your aunt in her grave; and to enter upon what 
I am about to do, may appear unseeming at such a time. It 
is unseemly in point of fact; but it is but a single word I 
would say, or ask; and what I have heard must justify it. 
Give me the hope, the permission, that at a future time I naay 
ask you to be my wife. " 

“It is impossible," was her low reply; but Geoff ry saw 
that she could scarcely speak for agitation, and that she was 
in fact gasping for breath. 

“ Do you understand me?" he returned. 

“ I believe so. You are asking me to be your wife; is not 
that it? I thank you for the — the — the courtesy — the offer — 
but I can not avail myself of it." 

“ Later I craved, Adelaide; that 1 might speak of it later. " 

“ Neither now nor later. I beg you to drop the subject 
forever. " 

Geoffry Dane was likewise agitated, and pale as death. 
Were all the hopes of his later life to be thus ruthlessly blown 
away? 

“ Adelaide, what has changed you?" he resumed, in a deep 
tone. “ I once thought- — " 

“ Never mind what you once thought," she impetuously 
interrupted, “ or what I thought either. The past is past." 

“ I can offer you now what I could not then; what I never 
— I solemnly declare — so much as glanced at the possibility of; 
I can offer to make you mistress of this Castle and these broad 
lands." 

Some emotion appeared to overcome her, for she buried her 
face in her hands and was shaking as though she had the ague. 

With an effort she looked up, and steadied her voice to 
speak. 

“You need not enlarge upon it: I perfectly understand. 
You would make me Lady Dane. " 

“ I would make you Lady Dane and my dear wife," he in- 
terposed, in a tone of the deepest tenderness. “ Oh, Adelaide, 
let this misery end! What has come between us?" 

“But I can not accept the offer," she more calmly con- 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


77 


tinned, completely ignoring his last sentence, and retreating 
backward, for he had made as if he would take her hands. 
“ Geoffry Dane, I pray yoio let this subject cease, now and 
forever. ” 

‘‘Adelaide!” 

“ Cease, cease,” she implored. “ I can never give you any 
other answer. ” 

“ But this is inexplicable;' most strange. You must assign 
me the cause for your estrangement.” 

“No other answer, no other answer,” she reiterated in a 
tone that savored of alarm. “The broad fact is sufficient; 
why go into details?” 

“ It is not sufficient, Adelaide. I have a right to demand 
its cause.” 

“ I shall never give it you. You ask me to be your wife, 
and I refuse. There it must end. ” 

“ Are we to part thus — in anger? in dissatisfaction?” 

“ Not in anger, unless you choose. I thank you, GeofEry, 
for your courtesy, as much as though I had accepted it. And 
now, yon must forgive me for reminding you what to-day is; 
that your “ one word ” has lengthened into many: and that I 
wish to be alone.” 

Geoff ry Dane withdrew; he could not well do otherwise. 
But, overwhelmed as he felt with disappointment, unpleas- 
antly perplexed and puzzled though he was at her curious 
conduct, there was yet a hope lurking within him which 
seemed to wliisper that a little time might set things to rights 
— that Lady Adelaide Errol would still be his. 


CHAPTEK YIII. 

MARGARET BORDILLIOM. — TIFFLE. 

About half a mile from Dane Castle, standing almost at a 
right angle between the Castle and the village of Danesheld, 
was the dwelling of Mr. Lester, or, as he was sometimes 
styled in the vicinity. Squire Lester. It was a substantial, 
red-brick building, known by the name of Danesheld Hall, 
and but for its large size might have been taken for a farm- 
house, surrounded as it was by out-buildings, barns, sheds, 
rick-yards, poultry-yards, and other appurtenances that a 
superior farm generally possesses. Its site was somewhat soli- 
tary, no dwellings being in the immediate vicinity, while the 
^ large, wild wood at the back, ranging out and extending to 


78 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH, 


some distance, did not tend to render its as2)ect more cheer- 
ful. The wood belonged to Lord Dane, and was a favorite re- 
sort of poachers. 

Now it may be as well to state, before going on, that Mr. 
Lester’s property was not entailed. It had come to him by 
bequest, not by inheritance. A distant relative of the late 
owner, he had been made the heir, unexpectedly to himself — 
the heir, upon the condition that he should take up his resi- 
dence on the estate and make the hall his home. He was a 
dashing young guardsman then, poor and proud^ and he 
scarcely knew whether to be pleased or annoyed. The fort- 
une was most welcome, but to vegetate in the country and 
be dubbed “ the squire,” — he winced at that. However, we 
get reconciled to most things in time, and so did George Les- 
ter. He sold out, married, and took up his abode at Danes- 
held. In course of years his wife died, leaving him with two 
children, Wilfred and Maria, the latter four years younger 
than her brother. 

Mr. Lester was now nearly forty years of age, but he did 
not look it. He was a fine handsome man, rather “ fast ” 
yet, a great admirer of beauty, fond of society, and exceed- 
ingly popular. To say that he had become attached to Lady 
Adelaide would be scarcely a right phrase to use. He had 
not suffered himself to become so, seeing that she was en- 
gaged to her cousin. Captain Dane. He admired Lady Ade- 
laide greatly, he felt that he could love her; very delighted 
and proud would he have been to make her Lady^delaide Les- 
ter but for that previous engagement to Hariy Dane. 

But then came Harry Dane’s death; the barrier was re- 
moved, and Mr. Lester’s heart leaped up within him. Not 
immediately did he sjieak; the deaths following rapidly at the 
Castle, one upon another, barred its propriety; but, when the 
rumor reached him that Lady Adelaide was about to return 
to Scotland, he threw propriety to the winds, and besought 
her to become his wife. She requested a day or two for con- 
sideration, and then accepted him. 

Mr. Lester urged their immediate marriage; where was. the 
use of her traveling to Scotland, he said; better be married at 
once from the Castle, and obviate its necessity. Lady Adelaide, 
as an objection to haste, put forth her aunt’s recent death. 
But Mr. Lester replied that circumstances altered cases, and he 
thought haste in this instance was justifiable. Lord Dane 
agreed with him. He told them both that he felt his own life 
wming quickly, and should be better content to leave Adelaide 
with a legal protector. So the usual formal preliminaries and 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 79 

preparations were in their case dispensed with, and the wed- 
ding-day was fixed. 

“ Geoifry/’ said Lord Dane to his nephew, “ I can not leave, 
my bed and accompany them to church to give her away. 
Will you attend for me?” 

It was the first positive information Geoff ry Dane had re- 
ceived of the forthcoming marriage of Lady Adelaide. Vague 
reports, half surmises, had penetrated to him, but he believed 
them not. A deadly pallor overspread his face, too sudden, 
too intense to be concealed; and it startled Lord Dane. 

“ Be a man, Geoff ry. If she won’t have you, if she prefers 
somebody else, you can’t alter it; but don’t sigh for her after 
the fashion of a love-sick girl. Adelaide is beautiful, but she 
is not the wife 1 should like to choose; she is capricious and 
unsteady as the breeze. Forget her, and look abroad for 
somebody better; there’s as good fish in the sea as ever came 
out of ^t.” 

Geoffry’s color was coming back to him, and he made an 
effort to smooth his brow — to pass it off lightly. 

“ Will you go to church and officiate for me, Geoffry?” 

“ No, sir,” he answered in alow tone, but one that be- 
trayed firm resolution. ‘‘ If she marries George Lester of her. 
own inclination, why — let her. But I will not take part in it. ” 

Not only to Geoffry Dane did the projected union bring its 
j)angs. Mr. Lester’s first wife had been a Miss Bordillion, a 
lady of a good family, but a poor one — there was a saying in 
their vicinity, “ Poor and proud as Bordillion.” During Mrs. 
Lester’s last illness, which was known to be a fatal one, a very 
distant relative of hers, but still a Bordillion, was staying with 
her. They had been girls together, close and tried friends 
since, and Mrs. Lester besought a promise from Margaret 
Bordillion that she would remain at the Hall after her coming 
death, and watch over her young daughter, Maria. Margaret 
Bordillion was a delicate-looking woman of two or three and 
thirty, and the pink hue came into her cheeks as she thought 
of what the world might say did she remain an inmate of the 
house of the somewhat gayly-inclined George Lester. But 
when death is bi-^ught palpably before us — and Margaret Bor- 
dillion knew that it was very near to that chamber, as she held 
the damp hand, and looked down at the wasted face of Mrs. 
Lester — minor considerations are lost in the vista of the 
future, which now comes so palpably before us; that solemn 
future where we must all be gathered together and render u]) 
our accounts, and we feel far more anxious to fulfill our duty, 
wherever it may lie, than to be troubled at what the ‘‘ world 


80 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


will say/^ Mrs. Lester received tlie promise she craved, that 
Margaret Bordillion would — at any rate for a time — remain at 
the Hall to take charge of Maria. 

“ And remember, Margaret,^ ^ whispered Mrs. Lester, draw- 
ing Margaret’s ear down, that she might catch unmistakably 
the low accents, “ should any warmer feeling arise between 
you and George — it may be so — should he ever seek to make 
you his wife, remember that I now tell you I should be pleased 
with it.^^ 

‘ ‘ How can you contemplate such a thing ! how can you 
speak of it — at this moment.^^^ interrupted Miss Bordillion, 
aghast. “You, his wife, can calmly enter upon the subject 
of his marrying another!’^ 

“ The world and its passions are fading from me, Margaret,’^ 
was the reply of Mrs. Lester. “ It almost seems as if I had 
already left it. I feel no doubt that George will marr}^ again; 
he is most likely to do so; and I would prefer that he should 
make you my children's mother rather than any other woman. 

Mrs. Lester died, and Miss Bordillion continued at Hanes- 
held Hall. But she kept herself very much in the background, 
more as though she were only Maria’s governess, and declined 
to preside as the Hall’s mistress. She regulated the servants, 
and the domestic affairs, but she never officiated at table in the 
place of Mrs. Lester; when Mr. Lester had visitors, she fre- 
quently did not appear, remaining in private with Maria; and 
she quite as often sat in her own sitting-room as joined Mr. 
Lester. Maria was only eight years old at the time of her 
mother’s death: had she been more of a woman. Miss Bordil- 
lion would have felt her position less awkward. Some ladies 
might not have found any awkwardness in it; but Miss Bordil- 
lion was of an unusually sensitive temperament, exceedingly 
alive to the refined proprieties of life. 

Two years had now passed over her head since Mrs. Les- 
ter’s death, and what had they brought forth? Love. 
Thrown into constant contact with George Lester, who was a 
man of remarkably attractive manners, to Miss Bordillion as 
to others, ever dwelling on the words spoken by Mrs. Lester, 
Miss Bordillion had, at first unconsciously to herself, become 
deeply attached to him. And when a woman’s love has-lain 
dormant for the first five-and-thirty years of her life, and is 
then awakened, it bursts into a lasting passion — one that the 
young little know of. Timid, modest, retiring, she nourished 
it in secret, gradually giving way to the hope that she should 
be what Mrs.* Lester had suggested, his second wife; a hope 
that soon grew to intensity— nay, to expectation. And Mar- 


LADY ADELAIDiJ’S ^OATH. 81 

garet Bordillion^s days, now, were as one long dream of par- 
adise. 

More especially high beat her heart one morning, for her 
hopes appeared to be nearing their realization. It was a hot 
summer^s day at the close of July, and as the party rose from 
breakfast, Mr. Lester remarked that, while the excessive heat 
lasted, it would be better to have the breakfast laid in tho 
dining-room, which did not face the morning sun. 

‘‘ I will tell the servants to-day,^^ said Miss Bordillion. 

Wilfred Lester was at home for his holidays, which, how- 
ever, were drawing to an end. He was a high-spirited boy of 
fourteen, though, it must be confessed, given to be passionate 
and disobedient on occasions; his eyes were of an intensely vio- 
let blue, his hair and eyelashes dark, and he gave promise of 
being a handsome man. Maria and Edith had run out to the 
lawn, and Wilfred vaulted after them. A pretty little girl of 
eleven was Edith Bordillion, now on a visit at the Hall. She 
was the daughter of Major Bordillion, and niece of Margaret. 

The children were gamboling on the lawn, caring nothing 
for the heat, and Mr. Lester stood at the window watching 
them. Miss Bordillion remained in her seat at the breakfast- 
table, reading a letter which the morning-post had brought. 

“ Look here, Margaret, Mr. Lester suddenly exclaimed. 
“ Step this way a minute. 

She put aside her letter and went to him. 

Has it ever struck you, Margaret, what a famous conserv- 
atory might be carried out from this end window?^^ 

It would be an excellent spot for one,^-’ she replied. “ I 
think I once heard you make the same remark. " 

No doubt. It has been in my mind some time. I sup- 
pose I must set about it now.^^ 

Why now?^^ inquired Miss Bordillion. 

Mr. Lester laughed; it was what might be called a shy 
laugh, and as he replied to the question, his usually free tone 
had a tinge of embarrassment in it. 

“ It is two years — more — since Katherine died; I may begin 
to look out soon for some one to supply her place. In that 
case the old house ought to be brightened up. What say you/ 
Margaret?^^ 

Margaret Bordillion said nothing. She stood with her eyes 
cast down, and her cheeks glowing. She certainly did not con- 
strue the words into an offer; she had better sense; but she 
did believe that George Lester ^s intentions pointed to herself; 
his embarrassment of manner may have aided the thought. 
He saw the marks of confusion; it was impossible that she 


82 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


could conceal them, standing facing him, as she did, in the 
glowing brightness of the morning; and he attributed them to 
displeasure; he thought she was feeling pained at the idea of 
Katherine’s place being filled up. 

“ Margaret,” he said, in a low, tender tone, as he gently 
laid his hand upon her shoulder, though neither the tone nor 
the action was born of tenderness for her, “ it is not good for 
a man to be alone. Katherine is gone, but we are living. 
Ponder over what I have hinted, and try and overget your dis- 
taste to it. ” 

Mr. Lester stepped out at the window, which opened to the 
ground, as he concluded, and Joined the children. And Mar- 
garet Bordillion? — she remained standing as he had left her in 
the day’s brightness, type of the brightness which had rushed 
over and was illumining her whole soul. “ I shall be his wife, 
at last,” she softly murmured; his wife! his wife! how have 
I deserved so intense a happiness?” 

The servants entered to remove the breakfast-things, and 
that aroused her. She called to her the two little girls, and 
went with them upstairs to the study, to superintend, as 
usual, their lessons. 

The day went on to its close, its calm varied only by an out- 
break between Master Wilfred and Tiffle. Tifiie, one of the 
sourest of virgins, was the head-servant at the Hall, and liked 
to rule with an overbearing hand. She was housekeeper and 
mistress, subject, of course, to the authority of Miss Pordil- 
lion; but Miss Bordillion interfered but little. Tiffle, if not 
of a desirable temper, was neither of a kindly disposition: the 
servants called her cross-grained, and Miss Bordillion, truth 
to say, felt afraid of her. 

When Mrs. Lester died, and Tiffle found that Miss Bordillion 
was to remain, Tiffle went to her master and gave warning. Mr. 
Lester would not take it: he fancied that the Hall, deprived 
both of mistress and housekeeper, would inevitably come to 
something bad; and he raised Tiffle’s wages, and told her she 
must stop. Tiffle ungraciously consented to a three- months 
further sojourn; but when the three months came to an end, 
and Tiffle found how little Miss Bordillion troubled her — that 
she had, in fact, far more sway than in the days of her late 
mistress, Tiffle said no more about leaving. But she hated 
Miss Bordillion, simply because the latter was nominally placed 
over her; and Tiffle was one who could hate to some purpose. 
Another object of her dislike was Master Lester, and it was 
returned by him. That sort of repulsion must have existed 
between them which two persons will sometimes entertain. 


LADY OATH. 


83 


one to the other, unexplainable by themselves or in meta- 
physics; and when Wilfred was at home there were frequent 
contests between him and Tiffle. On this occasion it was 
shar2'>er than customaiy: so sharp and loud as to disturb the 
household: Mr. Lester was out, but Miss Bordillion, as in duty 
bound, interposed her authority, and ordered them both’before 
her. It was an unusual procedure for her to make; induced 
possibly by a fore-shadowing idea of the full and indisputable 
authority she might soon be vested with in that house. Miss 
Bordillion found that Tiffle was in the wrong — had provoked 
the boy unjustifiably; and she reprimanded her. 

Tiffle was pretty nearly stunned with indignation: truth to 
say, though the fault lay on her side this time, it was as often 
on Wilfred ^s: and she withdrew, vowing vengeance in her heart 
against the world in general and Miss Bordillion in particular. 
The servants suffered from her temper that day, as they 
scarcely ever had suffered, and the murmurs were loud and 
deep. 

Let her have her fling out,^"' cried the butler, who had been 
a passive listener. “ It wonT be for long now. I have heard 
news this evening. ” 

What's that?" cried Tiffle, turning sharply round upon 
him. ‘‘ Did you speak of me?" 

“ I tell them they may as well let you have your fling out, 
Mrs. Tiffle," he quietly answered. “ Another week or two, 
and it will be at an end." 

“ You are a fool," retorted Tiffle. 

“ Perhaps I am," said the man. “ Perhaps master would 
be if he didn't set himself about remedying this. But he is 
going to, and to marry a wife, and to give the house a mistress 
— which will put your nose out of joint, ma'am. " 

“ Is it true?" uttered one of the other servants, all of whom 
stood in consternation. 

“ It is perfectly true; otherwise I should not have repeated 
it. In a couple of weeks at the most I believe they'll be mar- 
ried." 

His accent was serious, and they knew him to be a cautious 
and a truthful man. Even Tiffle felt the calamity was certain, 
and she turned cold all over. 

“ It's that animal. Miss Bordillion!" she uttered, the con- 
viction fixing itself into her mind : ‘ ‘ it's she who has come 
over him, and no other. She's as sly as a cat!" 

The butler only smiled; it exasperated her beyond bearing, 
and she flung out of the room. 

“ I'll go to her this minute, and tell her what I think, if I 


84 


liADT ABEIAIBD’S OATJT. 


diei for she muttered, “ and the deuce himself shouldu^t 
stop me. 

Miss Bordillion was alone in the breakfast-room — they often 
sat in it on a summer^s evening — it was so pleasant to be where 
the windows opened to the ground, and to step out when in- 
clined.* Mr. Lester was dining ‘out that evening. The little 
girls were dragging a child ^s carriage to and fro on the lawn, 
in which were seated two dolls in state, Wilfred teasing them 
with all his might, and, altogether, making a great noise. 
Tifile came brushing in, her face red. She had a long sharp 
nose, and gray, sly ferret ^s eyes: was very little in person, and 
generally stealthy in her movements. She was attired in an 
old brown silk dress and a white muslin apron. 

‘‘ I lived in the family before you ever came near it. Miss 
Bordillion,"’^ began she, “ and I think if this change was in 
view I might have been injected into it.^^ 

Miss Bordillion looked up, astonished at her abrupt en- 
trance, her words, her manner altogether. Tiffle was literally 
panting with passion. 

“ Explain yourself, said Miss Bordillion. 

“ 1 say that it’s a shame for the servants to have been en- 
lightened, and for me, their head, to have been kept in the 
dark,” burst out Tiffle. “ But when things are set about in 
this kivert way, it don’t bring much luck. ” 

“ Explain yourself, I repeat,” interrupted Miss Bordillion. 
‘‘ What are you speaking of? You forget yourself.” 

“ It’s announced in the kitchen by Jones that you and mas- 
ter are going to make a match of it,” shrieked Tiffle. “ I 
suppose master told him.” 

Miss Bordillion was completely taken too; never had she 
been so much so in all her life. Tiffle’s insolence was entirely 
merged in the news: it was that which took away her self- 
possession and covered her with confusion. She blushed rosy 
red, she stammered, she faltered; bringing out some dis- 
jointed words that she ‘‘ did not know,” she “ was not sure.” 
Tiffle read the signs only too correctly. 

“ Lovesick as a school-girl!” she contemptuously solilo- 
quized, and then spoke a,loud. “So, as I have not been used 
to underhanded treatment, and can’t stomach it. I’ll give warn- 
ing now, if you please. ” 

And, leaving Miss Bordillion in a whirl of happy perplexity, 
she strode back to the servants, and boasted of what she had 
done. 

“ Good heavens!” exclaimed the butler, “ you never have 
been such an idiot! You complimented me with being a fool 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OAm 86 

jusfc now^ bat you might have kept it for yourself more justly. 
It is not Miss Bordillion that master^s going to marry. 

Tiffle sat down, overcome with sundry emotions. 

Not Miss Bordillion! Who is it, then?’^ 

“ The pretty young lady at the Castle — Lady Adelaide. I 
should be sorry to put my foot in it, as you have done. 

Tiffle said nothing in reply. She sat silent for at least half 
an hour, revolving in her mind the points of all she had heard 
and seen, and drawing her own deductions. Then she arose, 
and proceeded again to the breakfast-room. 

Miss Bordillion sat as she had left her, in the same chair, in 
the same position, her eyes fixed on vacancy, and the rosy hue 
of happy love lighting her countenance. She was lost in the 
m^zes of dream-land — illusive dream-land, upon which a rude 
blow was now about to fall — one tha’l would shatter its bliss 
forever. 

Very different was the present Tiffle, meekly standing there, 
from the outrageous Tiffle of half an hour ago. She deprecat- 
ingly held her hands together, smoothing them one over the 
other, and stole covert glances with her false eyes at Miss Bor- 
dillion. 

“ I am come to apologize, ma^am, for what I said just now, 
which I sliouldnT have done but for laboring under a misap- 
prehension. Them servants led me into it, and I should like 
to turn the whole lot away. I find there were no grouds for 
coupling your name with master^ s. 

“ Your words took me so entirely by surprise, Tiffle, that I 
did not meet them, or reprove you as I ought, was the quiet 
reply of Miss Bordillion. I will now merely observe that 
Mr. Lester entertains no present intention of changing his 
condition, so far as I know. Do not offend again — or take up 
groundless notions.^’ 

“I was only mistaken in the lady, you see, ma^am,^^ re- 
turned Tiffle, standing her ground. “ I thought it had been 
you — for which, as I say, I^m here to beg parding — whereas 
it^s somebody else. Master is about to marry. 

Slowly Miss Bordillion gathered in the words. Had they 
meaning? or had they not? Her heart beat wildly as she 
gazed at Tiffle. 

“ In less than two weeks from this the wedding is to come 
off,'’^ proceeded Tiffle, venturing on the unqualified assertion, 
and positively reveling in the misery she knew she was inflict- 
ing. “ A dainty bride shefil make, young and lovaly as ever 
wore the oringe wreath; but master — so it"s said — always had 


80 


LA.r>Y oatil 


an eye for beauty. You don't seem as if you had heard it, 
ma'am: he marries Lady Adelaide." 

Misery? Ay, misery as cruel ever fell in this world. Mar- 
garet Bordillion's pulses stood still, and then began to beat 
with alarming quickness. All the blood in her body seemed 
turning to stone, her brain whirled, her heart turned sick, the 
things around were growing dim to her. 

“ Water — a drop of water, Tiffle," she gasped' out, as her 
sight was failing. 

Tiffle whisked round to where some stood, ai wicked look of 
satisfaction on her countenance now that it was turned from 
view. She poured some into a tumbler, and carried it to Miss 
Bordillion, beginning to speak in a condoling tone. 

“ These changes is unpleasant, ma'am, when they come 
upon us by surprise; but — " 

Tiffle ceased for she saw that her words were falling on a 
deaf ear. Miss Bordillion lay in a fainting fit. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE LEASE OF THE SAILOK'S BEST. 

The indisposition of Miss Bordillion soon passed, afid Tiffle 
withdrew in silence; having the grace to feel that it was 
scarcely the moment to venture upon any more of her “ com 
dolences. " The evening grew later, and the children vvere sent 
to bed; but Margaret sat on where she was, never quitting 
her chair. 

To say that the news had stunned her would be to use a 
most feeble expression as descriptive of the facts. Her whole 
mind was in a chaos; and she was only conscious that the 
Rubicon, which most women must encounter once in their 
lives, was now passed, leaving behind it sweet and sunny 
plains, as of Arcadia; stretching out before it, the way she 
must henceforth walk, nothing but a black darkness. 

But Margaret Bordillion was one to look troubles firmly in 
the face, and she set herself to do so by this; even now, in the 
very dawn of her agony. First of all, were the tidings true? 
If so, she niust decide upon her own future movements; for, 
to remain in the house after the young Lady Adelaide was 
brought to it, his wife — Margaret bent , her head with a wailing 
crj’^; she could not pursue the thought. She must, if possible, 
be satisfied on the point before she slept; there was only one 
way to accomplish it, and that was by putting the question to 
Mr. Lester; and she resolved to do it. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


87 


He came home about eleven o^clock, much surprised to see 
Miss Bordillion sitting there; for she never waited for him 
when he passed his evenings out. 

“ You are quite dissipated, Margaret,^-’ began he, in his gay, 
careless tones. “ Eleven o^clock, and you sitting up!^^ 

She strove to form her lips to answer, but no sound came 
from them. She was schooling down her manner to indiffer- 
ence, making an effort to speak with calmness, but it was more 
difficult than she had thought. Mr. Lester continued, notic- 
ing nothing. 

‘‘ I am sure this is much more sensible than your dancing 
off upstairs to your own sitting-room or to bed, leaving an 
empty room to welcome me. I have wondered why you do so, 
Margaret; you can^t fear I shall eat you.^^ 

Margaret cleared her throat preparatory to speaking, but 
the self-agitation wliich the effort induced was more than she 
well knew how to hide. Her heart was beating great thumps, 
beating up to her throat, her face was white and her lips were 
dry. She rose from her seat, and opening her workbox, 
which rested on a side-table, stood there, apparently rummag- 
ing its contents, her back to Mr. Lester. Then she managed 
to bring out what she had made up her mind to say. 

“ I have been hearing some news to-night, and I thought 
I would wait and ask you if it was true. These warm even- 
ings, too, one finds sitting up agreeable. 

“ What momentous news have you been hearing?’^ he 
laughed. “ That the Thames has taken firo!^^ 

“ Something nearer home,^^ she answered, dropping a reel 
of cotton and stooping for it. ‘‘I have been told that you are 
going to — a sudden cou^h took her which caused the pause 
— “to marry Lady Adelaide Errol. 

“ How, who the deuce could have given you that informa- 
tion?^^ demanded Mr. Lester, in a joking tone. 

“ Tififle. She sM that Jones — at least I think she said it 
was Jones — had announced it to the servants, and she con- 
cluded he had authority from you.^^ 

“ The notion of Miss Bordillion ^s listening to the gossip of 
servants was his retort; and but for his manner, still a 
laughing one, she would have deemed it all nonsense together; 
perhaps a faint hope did come across her that it might be. At 
that juncture the butler happened to enter with some glasses, 
and his mast^j;, arrested him. 

So, Jones, you have been making free with Lady Adelaide 
Errol ^s name to-night — in conjunction with mine.'’^ 


88 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Jones turned crimson and purple, and Jones stuttered and 
stammered, but not a connected word could Jones utter. 

‘‘ Pray from whom did you get your information?^^ contin- 
ued Mr. Lester. 

“ Sir, I^m sure I beg pardon if — if iPs not correct, or if I 
did wrong to speak of it,'’^ cried the man. “ I got it from Mr. 
Geoffry Dane. 

“From Mr. Geoff ry Dane!^^ repeated Squire Lester, sur- 
prise causing him to echo the words. ‘‘ How did that come 
about?^^ 

“ It was in this way, sir. I met Mr. Geoff ry Dane in the 
road near the Castle, and he stopped to speak; he often does, 
for he’s a affable, pleasant gentleman; and just then my Lady 
Adelaide passed toward the Castle, with her maid and Bruff 
behind her. ‘ She’s a winsome young thing, sir,’ I said, when 
Mr. Dane was putting on his hat again, which he had taken 
off to her, ‘ as good as a sunbeam.’ ‘ It’s a sunbeam you’ll 
soon have near you, Jones,’ answered he; ‘ in a week or two’s 
time she leaves the Castle for your master’s, changing her 
name for his.’ He looked so queer when he said it.” 

“ Queer! How ‘ queer?’ ” asked Mr. Lester. 

“ Well, sir, I can hardly describe — there was a funny look 
about his mouth; the corners of it drawn down like. It made 
me think he had been speaking in ridicule, but I found he had 
not.” 

The servant ceased, but no rejoinder was made to him. 

“ And I certainly did speak of it when I got home, sir, and 
I am sorry if it has given offense, but I thought there could be 
no harm in repeating it, as it was said openly to me. Shall I 
contradict it, sir?” 

“ Oh, dear, no,” carelessly replied Mr. Lester. “ You may 
go, Jones.” 

The man retired, and Miss Bordillion, who had been steady- 
ing her nerves during the colloquy, turned to Mr. Lester. 

‘‘ It is true, then?” 

“Yes, it is true, Margaret,” he answered, his manner 
changing to seriousness. “I should have acquainted you with 
it to-morrow; the few words I said to you this morning after 
breakfast were intended as preparing heralds.” 

“ And is it possible that it is so near?” 

“ Circumstances are compelling the haste. Lord Dane’s 
state is most precarious, and I do not wish Adelaide to depart 
for Scotland. ” 

“ I think you should have told me,” she returned, her voice 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 80 


expressing resentment. “It is a short notice for me to lay 
my plans and get away from the house. ” 

“ Get away from the house exclaimed Mr. Lester. 
“ What are you thinking of now?^' 

“ Nay — what are you thinking of? I may rather say. 

“ The house is large enough for you and for Adelaide. She 
win not be putting you out of your place as mistress, because 
it is a place you have never assumed, and never would do it. 
You can remain in it precisely as you have hitherto done.^^ 

“ No, Mr. Lester, it is impossible, she answered, a sickly 
smile momentarily arising to her features. “Before you 
bring home your wife I must leave to make room for her.^^ 

“ Margaret, he returned, in a low tone, “ I do not forget 
that you promised Katherine to supply her place to Maria — to 
be, in a sense, the child^s second mother. Are you forgetting 
it?^^ 


A flush of pain dyed her face — the peculiar words called it 
forth. 

“ You are brining home Marians second mother in Lady 
Adelaide,'^ she said, laying her hand on her chest to still its 
beating. 

“ I should not bring Adelaide here to saddle her with the 
charge of a child for whom she does not, as yet, care; and 
she is neither old enough nor experienced enough to fulfill 
the duties of a parent to one of Marians age. When she shall 
have children of her own, experience will come with them. 
Margaret, you love Maria almost as the apple of your eye: you 
could not bear to part with her.^^ 

That it would bring more grief than she chose to acknowl- 
edge, was certain. 

“ I must bear it,^^ was all she said. 

“No, no. Margaret, by the remembrance of Katherine, 
for Marians own sake, I ask you to rescind this expressed reso- 
lution and remain with us. At any rate, for a period; say 
three months, six months; and then — if your sojourn be not 
agreeable; if you and Adelaide can not get on well together — 
then it will be time enough to talk of leaving. Dear Mar- 
garet! do not desert Maria. 

He had drawn close to her, and taken her hands in the 
earnestness of his emotion. She quietly withdrew them with- 
out reply; and Mr. Lester supposed his prayer was acceded to. 

Margaret Bordillion retired to her chamber, and sat herself 
down to think. What should she do? what ought she to do? 
She was a woman greatly alive to the dictates of conscience, 
one who was most anxious, even at a seK-sacrifice, to fulfill 


00 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


her duty. And conscience was already beginning to ask her 
whether it would be right to abandon Maria Lester. 

“ Should I put my own pain, m'y own chilled feelings in 
comparison with this?^^ she asked herself. “ Terrible as it 
will be to me to live here when she is his wife, perhaps I can 
bear it. And I deserve punishment: yes; for I had no right 
to suffer myself to become so attached to him. Let me take 
up the punishment and bear it, as I best may/’ 

She sat on, to the little hours of the morning, battling with 
her grievous trial. But no better reconciled did she get to it; 
and she rose impressed with the belief that she should not be 
able to remain. She made a kind of compromise with herself: 
she would not hurry away before the marriage, as was her first 
thought, but would remain during the month the bride and 
bridegroom expected to be absent on their wedding-tour (fol- 
lowing the customs of the world), and quit it only just pre- 
vious to their return. 

“ About Edith? she said to Mr. Lester, the following 
day, without touching upon other particulars. “ She had bet- 
ter be sent back to school.’’^ 

“ I don^t see why she should be,” was his reply. “She 
was invited for a three-months’ visit, and but a month of it 
has elapsed. Her remaining here will make no difference to 
Lady Adelaide: she will be with Maria.” 

Miss Bordillion offered no rejoinder. Edith could leave 
when she did, she thought. 

A few days passed on, nine or ten, and the day fixed for the 
wedding was drawing very close. Lord Dane seemed to have 
taken a turn for the better: he still kept his bed — from that 
he would never rise again — but his general health and spirits 
were much improved. One morning he sent for Mr. Apperly. 
The lawyer expressed his pleasure at seeing him so well. 

“ Yes,” smiled Lord Dane; “ I fancy I have taken another 
lease of my short span of life, and may be here a few months 
longer instead of a few weeks. Feeling equal to business, 
Apperly, I may as well execute the will to-day: I suppose it 
is ready. ” 

“ Quite ready, my lord, and has been this fortnight. But 
you were to let me know when to bring it up for signature.” 

“ I have not been well enough to put myself to any sort of 
business or trouble,” was the reply of Lord Dane. 

“ It is not well to suffer wills to remain unexecuted,” re- 
marked the lawyer. “ Procrastination plays strange tricks 
sometimes. ” 

“Not well, as a general rule, or when a man lies daily in 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


91 


danger of death/^ acquiesced Lord Dane. ‘‘Had I been 
likely to go off like the snuff of a candle, I would have signed 
the will the day it was made. But I do not^magine my de- 
parture will be quite so sudden as all that.^' 

“ About witnesses inquired Mr. Apperly; “ shall I bring 
them with me?^^ 

“ There ^s no necessity. Bruff and one of the other men 
will do.’ Squire Lester may happen to be in the Castle at the 
time: if so, he can be one.^^ 

“ He marries Adelaide, we hear.^^ 

“ Yes. Was it not you who drew up the settlement?” 

Mr. Apperly shook his head. 

“ I am not solicitor to Mr. Lester. Oh, by the way,^^ he 
suddenly added, “ has your lordship heard that Hawthorne is 
off to Australia?^^ 

“ Hawthorne off to Australia!” uttered Lord Dane, tern- 
ing his eyes on the lawyer in surprise. “ What should take 
him thither?” 

“ He has heard from his two brothers, who went over, as 
your lordship may remember, some four or five years ago. 
They are doing well — excellently — are making fortunes; and 
have written for Hawthorne to go out and do the same.^^ 

“ And he intends to go?” 

“ Ay, and to be off in a jiffy. Since the letter came, the 
man has not known whether he stood on his head or his heels, 
his brain reeling with the golden visions it holds forth. He 
was with me next day, asking what he had better do about the 
lease of his house. It seems he had given wings to the news, 
and twenty are already after it, anxious to take it off his hands 
— of course subject to your lordship^s approval. 

“ A good house is the Sailor^s Rest,^^ remarked Lord Dane; 
“ an excellent living for any steady man. Hawthorne would 
do well to think twice before he gives it up.” 

“ So I told him. But you see that sun, my lord, its rays 
shining in so brightly: you might just as well try to turn that 
from the earth, as to turn Hawthorne from this new project. 
He is wildly bent upon it, and his wife is the same; she is al- 
ready gone to London to lay in an outfit for the voyage.” 

“ What do they mean to do with their furniture and fixt- 
ures?” 

“ Whoever takes to the house must take to them. He puts 
the value down at £300, altogether; furniture, fixtures, lease, 
and good-will; and it’s not too much. One man is after it 
who would make a good tenant — Mitchel. ” 


92 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“ Mitchel?” echoed Lord Dane. “ What could he do with 
a public house? And where’s his money?” 

“ Your lordsliip is thinking of the preventive-man. I mean 
his brother.” 

“ Oh, ay, I forgot him. Yes, he would be a good tenant, 
and could pay Hawthorne the money down. Well, I leave it 
to you, Apperly; but let the name be submitted to me before 
the bargain is actually struck. I like to approve of ‘my own 
tenants.” 

“ Very well, my lord. But I suppose I may allow the ne- 
gotiations with Mitchel to go on, if he and Hawthorne so will 
it?” 

“ Yes, yes,” returned his lordship. ‘‘ I could have no ob- 
jection to Mitchel. A respectable man ; a very respectable 
man is Mitchel. ” 

“ And at what hour shall I return with the will.^’ inquired 
Mr.'*‘ Apperly. “ Three o’clock? four o’clock?” 

“Any hour. You won’t find me gone out,” responded 
Lord Dane, with a joking smile. 

“ Then I’ll say three,” said Mr. Apperly, “and bid your 
lordship good-day now, hoping my visit has not fatigued you.” 

He had quitted the room, when Lord Dane’s bell rang a 
hasty peal. It was to recall him. 

“ Apperly,” cried his lordship, “ I do feel somewhat fa-, 
tigued, not so well as I did when you came in, and think it 
may be better to put off the business till to-morrow. It’s not 
well for me to attempt too much in one day. Be here with 
the will at eleven in the morning/’ 

And the lawyer, with a bow of acquiescence, turned and 
went out again. 

When he reached home, John Mitchel was waiting to see 
him, the man who wished to take to the Sailor’s Rest. 

“ Hawthorne and I have come to terms, sir,” were the words 
with which he accosted Mr. Apperly; “ and we shall want you 
to make out the agreement and transfer. I don’t care how 
soon it’s done.” 

“ All very fine, my good man,” returned the lawyer, who, 
lawyer-like, chose to throw difficulties in the way, though 
none really existed; “ but there’s a third party to be consulted 
in this affair, besides you and Hawthorne. And that’s Lord 
Dane.” 

“ I feel sure his lordship will accept me readily,” returned 
the man. “ He could not find a surer tenant; you know he 
could not, Mr. Apperly.” 

“ I have nothing to say against you, Mitchell; there’s no 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 93 

doubt his lordship might get many a worse. TVell, 1^11 see 
about it in a few days.^^ 

‘ ‘ But, if you could manage it, sir, we should like the deeds 
drawn out immediately. I want to take possession next week, 
" and Hawthorne wants to be rid of it.^^ 

Pooh, pooh!^^ cried Mr. Apperly, “ you can^t take a bull 
by the horns in that way. Some men are six months getting 
into a house. I am busy to-day; and I shall be busy to-mor- 
row; but you may come in again the next morning. Mean- 
while, I^ll contrive to see Lord Dane. 

, “I dare say, sir,^^ returned Mitchel, looking hard at Mr. 
Apperly, you might accept me now, if you would. It^s not 
altogether that I am in so great a hurry to get into the house; 
it is Hawthorne who is in haste to get out of it; but what I 
want is, to n^he sure that I shall have it — that I shahi^t be put 
aside for another. I^d pay this, freely, to secure it, sir. 

He laid down, a £5 note. Five-pound notes had charms for 
Mr. Apperly like they have for all men, lawyers in particular. 
He looked at it complacently; but, true still to his craft, he 
would not speak the word positive. 

‘ ‘ I have some power vested in me, Mitchel, certainly, and 
believe I can promise that you shall become the tenant. Sub- 
ject, you understand, to the consent of Lord Dane.'^ 

“Of course, Mr. Apperly. Then it is a settled thing, for 
I know his lordship wonT object to me. So 1^11 say good- 
morning, and thank you, sir.^^ 

“ And step in the day after to-morrow, in the forenoon, 
Mitchel. As to this,^^ added the lawyer, carelessly popping 
the note inside his desk, “ it can go into the costs. 

But there was to be acting and counteracting. Somewhere 
about the same hour that Mitchel paid his visit to Mr. Apper- 
ly, Bicliard Kavensbird paid one at Mr. Geoffry Dane^s. The 
latter looked exceedingly surprised to see him, if not annoyed. 

“Sir,” began Eavensbird, without any circumlocution, 
“ report runs that, now you are the heir, my lord leaves many 
points of business, relating to the estate, entirely in your 
hands. I have come to ask your interest and influence to get 
me accepted as tenant of the Sailor ^s Eest."^^ 

He spoke fearlessly, not at all as a petitioner, more as 
though he was making a demand. A remarkably independent 
man was Eichard Eavensbird. 

“ What! are you after the Sailor^s Eest?” exclaimed Mr. 
Dane. “ I have heard a dozen names mentioned; but not 
yours. The man most likely to have it, they say, is Mitchel. 

“ I have not been after it with a noise, like the rest have. 


94 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


sir; but, as soon as I found it was to let, I spoke privately to 
Ilawthorne. I must do something for a living, and have been 
looking out ever since I left the Castle in the spring. 

“ Then you don’t intend to go to service again?” 

“Service!” returned Eavensbird. “Who would engage 
me, after having been taken up on a charge of murdering my 
former master? There may be some, Mr, Herbert — I beg 
your pardon, sir, I ought to say Mr. Dane— who don’t yet be- 
lieve me innocent. Hot that that’s the reason; I never did 
intend to enter upon another service, if I left Captain Dane’s. 
The Sailor’s Eest is just such a house as I should like; will 
you help me to it, sir?” 

“ Eavensbird,” said Mr. Dane, not replying to his request, 
“ it appears strange to me that you should remain in Danes- 
held. You have no ties in it; until youT^ame here with your 
master you were a stranger to it; had a like cloud fallen upon 
me, however unjustly, I should be glad to get away from the 
place.” 

“ Ho, sir,” answered Eavensbird, in a quiet, concentrated 
tone; “ I prefer to stay in it. ” 

“ To enter upon the Sailor’s Eest will require money, ” 
again objected Mr. Dane. 

“ I am prepared with that. I have not lived to these years 
without saving up money. That won’t be the bar — as Haw- 
thorne knows. He has been shilly-shallying, has Hawthorne,” 
continued Eavensbird. “ I knew of his intention to leave the 
house as soon as he did, for he read the letter from Australia 
to me when it came, lodging with them as I do; and I spoke 
up at once, and said I would take the house off his hands. He 
quite jumped at it — was all eagerness to transfer it to me; but 
in a day or two his tone changed, and he has been vacillating 
between me and John Mitchel.” 

“ Why did he change? Do you know?” 

“ Yes; and I have no objection to say,” answered Eavens- 
bird. “ A crotchet came over him that I might not be an ac- 
ceptable tenant to my lord, who still wavers as to my guilt or 
non-guilt. ” 

“ My lord does not waver: he believes you guilty,” was on 
the’ tongue of Geoff ry Dane; but he checked the words, and 
suffered Eavensbird to continue. 

“It is scarcely likely that any reasonable man can believe 
me to have been the assailant, in the face of the sworn alibi; 
so why should his lordship nourish a prejudice against me? 
Will you accept me as tenant, Mr. Dane?” 

“ I have no power to d<5 so: you have taken up a wrong no- 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


95 


tion altogether. I certainly have transacted business for my 
uncle, since I have stood, as may be said, in Mr. Geoffry 
Dane’s place; but he has not given me authority to let his 
houses.” 

“Will you speak to him for me, sir?” 

Mr. Dane hesitated. 

“ I would speak in a minute, Ravensbird, but I am sure it 
would ber doing no good. Apart from any prejudice he may 
or may not hold against you, he is one who will not brook in- 
terference, even from me.” 

“ You might try” persisted the man, “ whatever the re- 
sult should be. ” 

“ Will you undertake not to be disappointed at the result? 
Did it lie with me, it would be a different matter; but it lies 
entirely with Lord Dane. ” 

There was a pause. Ravensbird stood in silence, as if still 
awaiting an answer, his piercing eyes never moving from 
those of Mr. Dane. 

“ However, as you seem so set upon it, I will speak to his 
lordship,” resumed the latter. “ But I must choose my time: 
it is not every day that he will allow business matters to be so 
much as named.” 

“If it is not settled between now and to-morrow nighty 
John Mitchel will have the place,” rejoined Ravensbird, al- 
most fiercely. 

“ Then I will speak to his lordship in the morning,” con- 
cluded Geoffry Dane. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE DAMP FLAGS — THE BRIDE COMIHG HOME. 

A JUNKET was being held in the housekeeper’s parlor at 
Dane Castle, by the upper servants, who had invited a few 
friends to pass the evening. There was nothing very wrong in 
it; servants like moments of revelry just as much as their bet- 
ters, and it would be unreasonable to say they should never 
enjoy them, provided they keep within bounds. Of all people 
in the world, who should have been smuggled into the Cas- 
tle, one of the guests, but Richard Ravensbird! The servants 
did not share in the prejudice of their lord: they believed his 
innocence to be an established fact, and deemed him an ill- 
used man. Perhaps Sophie’s eloquent tongue had contributed 
to help them to this conviction. Wine, and biscuit, and cold 
puiKjh, and rich cake, and fruit, and even ices were on the 


96 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


table, with other nice things; for the servants of the English 
nobility know what’s good; and laughter and merriment 
reigned around. 

Paying great attention to a smart damsel (smart there, and 
with a face smoothed to smiles, but who was no other than 
Tiffle) was the valet of Lord Dane — an old beau, who had 
been in search of a wife (as he said) the last ten years, but had 
not found one to his mind. He was plying Tiffle with wine, 
cake, and soft speeches, when Mr. Bruff suddenly interrupted 
the flirtation, and recalled the valet to his duty. 

“ Is it not time that you should just step upstairs, and see 
if my lord requires anything?” 

“ My lord is sure to be sleeping still,” was the reply of the 
valet; “otherwise he would have rung. It’s bad for him, 
this going to sleep at dusk, because it spoils his night’s rest; 
but he will yield to it. Besides, my Lady Adelaide is sitting 
in the room. Let me alone for not neglecting my lord, Mr. 
Bruff.” 

“ I wonder the young lady likes to pass her evenings in a 
sick-chamber,” grunted Tiffle. 

“ I know why 1 think she chooses it,” responded the Cas- 
tle’s housekeeper, dropping her voice, “ and that’s for the 
sake of company. My lord in his sick-bed is better than none. 
My opinion is, that she’s frightened to sit alone in this great 
house. What she saw, or what she didn’t see, that dreadful 
night by the ruins, I don’t know; but it’s certain that nobody 
was ever so changed in the space of time as is Lady Adelaide. ” 

“ My faith!” ejaculated Sophie, jumping out of her chair, 
“ if my lady didn’t tell me to take her a shawl, for she felt 
chill, and that’^s an hour ago! W;hat’s my head worth?” 

“ And that’s another odd thing,” continued the house- 
keeper, as Sophie flew from the room. 

“ My young lady’s feeling chill, these hot nights, as soon as 
dusk comes on. Take her altogether, she’s just as if she had 
some dreadful secret within her to weigh her down. ” 

Sophie had gone from the room quick enough; but not half 
as quickly as she burst into it, on her return. The assembled 
party gazed at her in amazement, for she was evidently under 
the influence of some great terror, which had taken away her 
self-possession, and turned her face white. 

“ Who is in the death-room?” she panted. 

“ The death-room!” echoed Bruff, “ why, nobody. It’s 
locked up safe. What superstitious fancy is coming over you 
now, Mam’selle Sophie?” 

“ It’s not locked up. The door’s ajar. ” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 97 

It is locked iip/^ persisted Bruff. “The key^s hanging 
in my pantry. 

“I did not notice the door as I went by it/^ began Sophie, 
in explanation, “ and my belief is, that it was then shut; 
otherwise I should never have had courage to go by it, and 
upstairs into the rooms by myself. But when I came back 
there it was ajar. My patience! didn’t I scutter on to you, 
my legs shaking as if they’d drop.” 

“ Of all fanciful creatures, Mam’selle Sophie’s the worst — 
seeing ghosts where there are none,” testily exclaimed the 
butler, who had a prejudice against jokes or tales being passed 
on the death-room. “ The door’s no more open than this 
door’s open; and, to convince you. I’ll go to my pantry and 
get the key. ” 

He opened the door as he spoke and departed : Sophie nod- 
ding her head after him in scofnful incredulit 3 r: 

“ If he finds the key there. I’ll eat it,” quoth she. 

“ Did you take the shawl to Lady Adelaide?” questioned 
the housekeeper. 

“ What should hinder me, when I went to do it?” returned 
the saucy Sophie. “ My lady was asleep. ” 

“ Asleep!” 

“ Gone off right into a doze in the easy-chair. So I threw 
the shawl lightly on her knees, and came away.” 

“ And my lord?” put in the valet, “ was he asleep still?” 

“ For all I know. I didn’t go as far as the bed. Little 
doubt that he was asleep, or else he’d have spoken. ” 

At this moment Bruff returned, with a softened step and 
softened voice, his countenance wearing a look of perplexity. 

“ It’s very odd,” cried he, “ the key’s 7iot in the pantry.” 

“ So it’s Sophie that sees ghosts where there are none, and 
fancies doors open when they’re not, and keys in them when 
they’re safe in their pantries!” retorted that demoiselle upon 
Bruff, in a tone of aggravation. “ Perhaps if you go and look 
at the death-room you’ll find that it is open.” 

“lam going there,” was the reply of Bruff. “ That key is 
under my sole charge, and it is as much as a servant’s place is 
worth to take it from its hook. Whichever of them has dared 
to do it, shall pay the penalty.” 

“I wish you’d allow me to accompany you, Mr. Bruff,” 
simpered Tiffle. “ I have heard much of the death-room in 
Dane Castle, and have long had a curiosity to see it.” 

“ There’s nothing to see,” returned Bruff; “ it’s a stone 
room, empty of furniture. But you are welcome to go if you 
wish to. ” 


98 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“Will nobody else come?” asked Tiffle, looking round with 
a simper. “ There’s safety in numbers, you know. ” 

Example is contagious, and every one present rose to follow 
Tifiie and Bruff — even the scared Sophie. 

Sophie was right. The door of the death-room was open — 
ajar, as she had termed it — and the key in the lock. But not 
a soul was inside the chamber. Bruff was ready to explode 
with indignation; that one or more of the under servants had 
surreptitiously obtained the key, either from the mischievous 
motive of annoying him or to awaken superstitious alarm in 
the Castle he had no doubt, and he determined, if possible, to 
pounce upon the offenders. 

“ Why, it’s nothing but a big, square, dreary room, with 
high windows and nothing in it!” ejaculated Tiffle, ranging 
her eyes around in disappointment. 

“I told you there was nothing in it,” said the butler. 
“ What did you expect to see?” 

Perhaps Tiffle had expected something in the middle, upon 
trestles; for she looked vexed and sour. 

“ I wouldn’t mind going by this here room fifty times over 
when the bell was tolling midnight,” cried she, with a con- 

i. i. «« mi j^i • 1 1 



temptuous 


There’s nothing here to 


squawk at. Where does that place lead to?” 

“ That’s a closet,” said the butler. 

“ What’s inside of it?” demanded Tiffle. 

“ A pair of trestles,” he replied, in a low tone. 

“Oh! Could we have a look at ’em?” 

“ No, Mrs. Tiffle,” he gravely answered. “ That closet is 
never opened but when — when it’s needful to open it. ” 

“ Well, it’s a nasty, cold, dismal place!” retorted Tiffle, 
“ not worth the coming to see. And how damp the floor is!” 

The last remark caused them all to cast their eyes downward 
upon the flags. ^ They were damp in places; capriciously damp, 
one might feel inchned to say; quite wet in parts, quite dry in 
others. 

“ What sort of floormg d’ye call this?” inquired Tiffle, when 
her eyes had taken in the effect. “ Some stones give with the 
damp and some don’t, that is well known; but here the same 
stone — lots of ’em — is half wet and half dry. And whoever 
saw flags damp on a hot summer’s night, with the weather set 
in for a regular drought?” 

No reply was made to Tiffle. The servants were looking on 
the floor in ominous dismay, for the superstition relating to it 
was rife among them. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


99 


“ It^s a sign that this room won^t be long without, a ten- 
ant/’ whispered the ever-ready Sophie. “ My Lord — ” 

‘‘We have had quite enough.^ nonsense for one night, 
mam’selle,” interposed the butler, taking her sharply up. 
“ My lord’s better; and I hope .he’ll live many a month yet.” 

“ I hope he will,” returned the persistent Sophie. “ But 
I have heard the Danes themselves say that this floor doesn’t 
go damp for nothing. Ill-luck seems to be upon the family 
this year. After the captain and Mr. Geoffry went I said 
there ’d be another death, making the third — ” 

“ And there was another — my lady’s,” broke in the irritat- 
ed butler. “ And according to your theory there it ought to 
stop. Pray what version would you give us should a fourth 
take place?” he cynically added. 

“A fourth,” debated Sophie; “ well, I should say,* if a 
fourth takes place, it would goon then to six; three and three. 
But death generally stops with the third.” 

A smile went round at Sophie’s “ three and three;” but the 
butler did not vouchsafe further reply. Eavensbird had taken 
no part in the conversation; his attention had been fully oc- 
cupied with the apartment. 

“ I never was here before,” he remarked; “and yet the 
room seems familiar to me. Where, how, and when can I 
have seen it?” 

“ In a dream, perhaps,” suggested Tiffle. “ Strange things 
do come to us in dreams. ” 

There was nothing attractive in the room to detain them 
now that their curiosity was gratified, and they filed out of it. 
Mr. Bruff locked the door and took possession of the key with 
an air which seemed to promise that it did not get out of his 
keeping again. As he turned from the door, the others being 
by that time nearly at the end of the long passage, he saw 
something white gliding swiftly down it. To his intense sur- 
prise he recognized Lady Adelaide. Her face wore a gray 
hue, and she positively laid hold of Bruff ’s arm as if impelled 
by fear. 

“ Bruff! Bruff I something’s the matter with Lord Dane,” 
she shivered. “He looks — he looks — I don’t know how he 
looks!” 

“ Oh, my lady! you should not have given yourself this 
trouble. Why did you not ring?” 

“ I was frightened to remain alone,” she whispered. “I 
dropped asleep, and when I woke I rose to look at Lord Dane, 
wondering that he had not spoken or called. He was lying 


100 LADY Adelaide’s oath. 

$ 

with his mouth open, and his face white and cold ; its look ter- 
rified me. ” 

‘‘ Perhaps he has fainted, my lady. He did have fainting- 
fits at the commencement of his illness.” 

“ Brufi,” she gasped, bursting into tears of nervous agita- 
tion, ‘‘it — looks — like — death.” 

Plenty of attendants, male and female, were soon around 
Lord Dane’s bedside — from within the Castle or summoned 
from without. Mr. Wild, the surgeon; Geoff ry Dane; and — 
he had heard the rumor accidentally — Mr. Apperly. 

Lord Dane was dead. He had died quietly in his bed with- 
out stir or sign, while the Lady Adelaide was in his room not 
four yards from him unconsciously sleeping. She kept shiv- 
ering as she stood there now with the rest looking on. 

“ Can nothing be done?” demanded the petrified household 
of Mr. Wild. 

“ JSTothing whatever. He has been gone some tiine. Don’t 
you see that he is already becoming rigid? One comfort is, he 
went off in his sleep and did not suffer. I have thought this 
might probably be the ending.” 

“ Then I wonder you didn’t tell him so. Wild,” burst forth 
Mr. Apperly, in a hot tone of reproof. “ It was only this 
very morning his lordship said to me that he was not a subject 
to go off like the snuff of a candle.” 

“ And why should I tell him? He was prepared for death; 
he knew it was coming, was very near; wherefore tell him 
that it might be sudden at the last?” 

“Ho; he was not prepared for death,” returned the law- 
yer, in a heat; “ not in one sense. He had not settled his 
affairs.” 

The announcement took all by surprise. He, Lord Dane, 
with his protracted illness, not to have settled his affairs! 
Geoffry Dane smiled incredulously. 

“ Mr. Apperly, you must be mistaken. My uncle made his 
will when he was first recovering from his accident.” 

“ I know he did; I drew it up for him; but he had a wife 
and children then. After they were gone that will was of lit- 
tle use, and it was canceled. The 'Second will has been drawn 
up this fortnight past, waiting for the signature. Upon what 
chance-pivots things turn!” broke off the lawyer. “ His lord- 
ship sent for me this morning and appointed this afternoon 
for the execution. Then, feeling fatigued, said he would put 
it off till eleven o’clock to-morrow. And now he is gone, and 
the will is worth so much waste paper!” 

“ Wanting the signature?” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


101 


“ Wanting the signature/^ assented Mr. Apperly. “You 
will be the better for it,” he added, looking at Geoff ry Dane; 
“ but others will be the worse. It^s a dangerous habit, is pro- 
crastination; I donH know anything I dislike more.^’ 

“ My lord, do you remain in the Oastle.^^^ inquired the 
housekeeper, as they were beginning to desert the chamber. 

Some of them started and looked at her. They thought she 
spoke to the dead lord who lay there. But no; she was ad- 
dressing Geoffry, now Lord Dane. 

“ Yes,” he replied; “ it will, I suppose, be better that I 
should.” 

Ere the words had well left his lips his eyes fell on Lady 
Adelaide — on her look of embarrassment and her glow of 
color. 

“ Not to-night, however,^^ he added, turning to the house- 
keeper. “ I will see about an-angements to-morrow. ” 

In the corridor Adelaide encountered Mr. Lester^ who had 
that instant arrived, Tifiie having carried home the news of 
Lord Dane^s sudden death. Without allowing herself time for 
reflection — for thought — she spoke words that came uppermost 
in the impulse of the moment: 

“ What am I to do now? where can I go? I will not re- 
main in the Castle now Geoffry Dane is its master.-’^ 

“ My dearest Adelaide, why this emotion? In a few days 
you know that you will be leaving it for another home — I hope 
a happier one. 

“ But for those few days — I can not be the guest of Geoffry 
Dane! And how can the marriage take place right upon Lord 
Daue^s funeral ?^^ was her impulsive retort. 

Mr. Lester paused before he spoke. 

“ There is one way, Adelaide, by which to solve the difficulty 
if you will consent. Be mine td-niorrow. We can be married 
in private in this drawing-room. ” 

The proposition nearly took away what little sense Lady 
Adelaide at the moment possessed. She made no reply. 

“ The license — which I already have — is special; so on that 
score there will be no impediment,” pleaded Mr. Lester. 
“ Adelaide, my darling, let it be so! Give me a legal right to 
protect you in this emergency. I know that Lord Dane, could 
he be a party to my petition, would urge it as strenuously as I 
am doing.” 

“ But — to leave the place at this moment — to go on a mar- 
riage-journey while he is lying dead— what will the world 
say?” 

“ We can dispense with the journey, Adelaide. You must 


102 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


quit this house and come to mine. See you not that it is the 
better, nay, almost the only plan to adopt under the unhappy 
circumstances?” 

“ Oh, I do not know! It is so sudden — and I am too bewil- 
dered to give proper deliberation to it. Let it rest until morn- 
ing; I shall be more collected then.” 

As Geoff ry Dane — Lord Dane from henceforth — was depart- 
ing from the Castle there stepped forth Richard Ravensbird. 
It appeared as though he had waited outside for the purpose. 

“ I must ask your pardon for interrupting you, my lord, at 
such a moment — especially on business,” he began. 

Well,” said Lord Dane. 

“ And I should not have thought of doing so, but I find 
there’s not an hour to be lost. It’s about the Sailor’s Rest, 
my lord. John Mitchel has been announcing that he has 
agreed with Mr. Apperly for the lease, subject to the consent 
of Lord Dane. You are Lord Dane now, my lord. ” 

There was a peculiar significance in the tone of Ravensbird 
as he spoke the concluding sentence — a bold, independent, 
almost a demanding tone. Was it possible that Lord Dane 
failed to remark it? 

And you think I can grant you the lease?” 

“Yes, my lord. And I hope you will.” 

“ Enough, for to-night,” curtly responded Lord Dane. 
“ This is certainly not the moment for the discussion of busi- 
ness matters.” 

Ravensbird respectfully touched his hat and strode away 
quietly toward Danesheld. Lord Dane also proceeded in the 
same direction, but at a slower pace. As he was turning to- 
ward his own house he heard footsteps behind, and found they 
were Mr. Apperly’s, who had remained in the Castle a few 
minutes longer than himself. 

“ A dreadfully sad and sudden event, my lord!” cried the 
lawyer. ‘ ‘ And to think that he should not have signed the 
will!” 

“It has shocked me much,” replied Lord Dane, turning 
upon him his pale face — unnaturally pale it looked in the star- 
light. “ Although we could not expect him to be much 
longer with us.” 

“ I shall require instruction from your lordship upon differ- 
ent points,” returned Mr. Apperly. “ When will it be con- 
venient — ” 

“ I shall be at the Castle to-morrow at ten,” interrupted 
Lord Dane. “ Meet me there. And meanwhile, until I shall 
have gone into things, let any little business matters you may 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


103 


have in hand relating to the estate rest in abeyance. Grant- 
ing leases, or anything of that sort. 

“ Very good, my lord. Not that anything much is in hand 
just now. There^s that trifling affair of the Sailor^s Rest; 
Hawthorne and Mitchel both want it got over as speedily as 
pens can trace parchment. Lord Dane had no objection to 
Mitchel as its tenant; your lordship, I conclude, will have 
none.^^ 

“Lord Panels death puts a stop to negotiations for the 
present, was the somewhat sharp answer. “ Let everything, 

I say, remain in abeyance. 

Mr. Apperly nodded acquiescence, wished the new peer 
good-night, and left him. “ He^ll be a martinet unless I ani 
mistaken,^ ^ was his parting thought. 

It was dusk, and the following evening; nay, dark — as dark 
as we get the summer nights when ten o^ clock is drawing on. 
Miss Bordillion was seated alone in the handsome drawing- 
room of Danesheld Hall, her head running upon many things. 

A shadow of relief — it would be wrong to call it hope — had 
arisen in her heart since she heard of Lord Panels death, for 
she deemed that it would undoubtedly put the wedding off for 
some weeks, if not longer; and there was no immediate neces- 
sity to worry her poor sad brain over her own plans for the 
future. 

She was interrupted by the approach of a carriage which 
was coming hastily toward the Hall. It surprised her; they 
were expecting no visitors, and it was an unusual liour for vis- 
itors to come une^ected. As it swept round the drive past - 
the windows she ftought she recognized it for Mr. Lester^s 
own chariot, and she wondered, for she had not observed him 
go out in it. One of the servants bustled in hurriedly to light 
the chandelier and the mantel-piece branches. 

“ Has your master been out?^^ she inquired of the man. 

“ I thought he was at the Castle.'’^ 

“ He has not been elsewhere, I believe, ma^am. This is 
him coming from the Castle now. 

The man retired. A few moments and the door was thrown 
open by another servant to give admission to Mr. Lester and 
Lady Adelaide. Miss Bordillion rose from her seat, gazing at 
Adelaide: had it been the Queen of England who entered it 
could not have caused her more intense astonishment. She 
stood as one petrified. 

“ How do you do. Miss Bordillion 

She held out her hand while Mr. Lester was taking her shawl 
from her shoulders; and Margaret touched it mechanically in 


104 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


utter amazement. Lady Adelaide wore an evening-dress of 
white silk, plain, save for a little lace on its body and sleeves, 
a pearl necklace, white gloves, and no bonnet. Bound the 
plait of her hair behind was a small wreath of flowers: had 
Miss Bordillion looked closely she would have seen that they 
were orange-blossoms. But she was too bewildered to look or 
to think: why should Lady Adelaide have come there then in 
evening dress? Why should she have laid aside her deep 
mourning? The true cause never was so much as glanced at 
by the unhappy Margaret. 

Lady Adelaide stood right under the rays of light from the 
chandelier — rays that but illumined her great beauty. Never 
had it been more radiant, for her cheeks were flushed to crim- 
son, and her eyes were brilliant with excitement. 

“ It is scarcely fair to take the house by storm in this way, 
is it. Miss Bordillion? But I believe there was no help for 
it.” 

What Miss Bordillion answered she never knew. Rarely 
had she been scared so entirely out of her self-possession. 

“ Would you like tea immediately, Adelaide?” interposed 
Mr. Lester. 

“ Oh, yes.” 

Margaret muttered some half -intelligible words about “ tell- 
ing the servants to bring it, ” and escaped from the room. 
But 'she had not quitted it above a minute when she remem- 
bered that there were sundry toys strewn on one of the sofas 
which the children had left there when they went '^io bed, not 
particularly ornamental to a drawing-room; and she turned 
back to get them... * 

She opened the door softly, for she did not care that they 
should take notice of her re-entrance. The sofa was close at 
hand, and she thought she could scramble up the things and 
escape again. But her footsteps were arrested on the very 
threshold. Mr. Lester stood with his back to her; his tall 
form, handsome in its strength, bending over another which 
he had gathered to him. Her flushed cheek lay on his breast, 
and he was murmuring endearing words — words of welcome to 
the house they seemed — for their sense partially struck on 
Margaret’s ear. 

Forgetting the toys, closing the door still more softly than 
she had opened it, Margaret Bordillion sped away, her face 
gray and stony with its bitter agony. Turning an angle of 
the hall into a narrow passage, she met Tiffle and the French 
maid Sophie. Tiffle glanced out of her cunning eyes and 
spoke abruiitly. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 105 

“ Whatever's the matter. Miss Bordillion? You look as if 
you'd been shook in the mind. Are you ill, m^'am?" 

Miss Bordillion rallied herself. “111! why should you 
think that! I am very well. Mr. Lester is asking for tea, 
Tiffle." 

“ To think of this happening as it has," continued Tiffle, 
standing right in front of Miss Bordillion, so that the latter 
could not conveniently pass. “ The house not properly set in 
order, nor anything; but it's not my fault— as her ladyship 
must know. It's as much as we've been able to do to get her 
rooms ready for to-night — leastways master's rooms, which is 
the same thing now." 

“ Has Lady Adelaide come here to remain the night.^" 
hastily inquired Margaret, more bewildered, more at sea than 
ever. “ Here! in Mr. Lester's house?" 

“ My lady's come for good, ma'am; come home," respond- 
ed Tiffle, winking and blinking as if the lamp near her dazzled 
her eyes, though in reality never taking them off Miss Bordil- 
lion 's changing countenance. “ She and master have just 
been married in the grand saloon at the Castle, and he has 
brought her home. Sophie's come with her. " 

The unhappy lady did not faint at the news. She only felt 
that h^ face grew more ghastly; and she took a step back- 
ward to the wall and leaned against it. 

“ Yes," she constrained her dry lips to say, making a poor 
effort to smile on Sophie. 

“ You see, miss, my lord's death last night put things about 
so contrarily," spoke up that demoiselle. ‘ The new lord 
takes up his abode at the Castle to-day; and my lady preferred 
to leave it. The ceremony was to have taken place tlris after- 
noon; but the minister — or what you call your English priests 
— he was away, and could not be had till evening. She has 
been dressed as she now is since three o'clock waiting for him. 
And they w5re not quite certain that he could be found before 
to-morrow. 

“ And that's what master must have meant, then, when he 
said he was not sure," resumed Tiffle to Miss Bordillion. 

“ He came home — well, it must have been near four o'clock — 
and told me about setting his own rooms in order; but I was 
to hold my tongue about it to everybody in the Hall, he said, 
for he was not yet sure whether they would be required to- 
night or not for Lady Adelaide. Fancy, Mam'selle Sophie, 
the scuffle it put me and the house-maids in!" 

Miss Bordillion succeeded in getting by, and gained her own 


/ 


106 


LADY ADELAIDP/S OATH. 


chamber. “ Married! married!^' seemed to be perpetually 
ringing in her^ars. 

The next day — not by her own wish, indeed in express op- 
position to it, for she sat in her small sitting-room and kept 
the children with her — Miss Bordillion encountered Lady 
Adelaide. She was whisking through the hall as swiftly as 
])Ossible when she came right upon her and Mr. Lester. Lady 
Adelaide wore no gloves now, and the wedding-ring was fully 
conspicuous as her fair hand rested on the arm of her husband. 
She had resumed her deep-mourning attire. 

‘^Well, Margaret I gayly cried he. “Where have you 
been hiding all the morning?^^ 

With as hurried a greeting as she could in politeness give. 
Miss Bordillion quitted them. But every hour she remained 
in that house would only be prolonged torture; and ere the 
day was over a message was dispatched to Mr. Lester — “ Miss 
Bordillion requested five minutes^ conversation with him.^.^ 

He went up at once to her sitting-room; and she hurriedly, 
abruptly unfolded to him her plans. She would hire of him 
that small house of his that was vacant — Cliff Cottage — if he 
would let it her; and there she would take up her abode with 
Edith. Major Bordillion would be glad that she should take 
charge of her as a regular thing, and would pay h^ well. 
Perhaps he— Mr. Lester — would also let her have Maria; with 
this help and her own income she could maintain a home. 

“Margaret, why?^^ he inquired. “What urgent motive 
can you have for thus fiying from the hall? Will you not tell 
it me?^^ 

Tell it him! The painful crimson suffused her face, and 
then left it pale as marble. Did he suspect the truth as he 
gazed upon her emotion? It can not be said; but an answer- 
ing rush of red came into and dyed his own face, and he 
uttered not one other word of opposition to her departure. 

Cliff Cottage was hastily arranged fpr occupation and fur- 
nished; and. Miss Bordillion within a fortnight had taken pos- 
session of it, with Edith and Maria. Her home was hence- 
forth to be theirs — at any rate for the present — and she would 
superintend their education. Another removal — or, it mav be 
more correct to say, change — took place in the same week in 
regard to the tenancy of the Sailor’s Pest. Hawthorne and 
his wife quitted it, and Richard Ravensbird entered upon it: 
for, very much to the surprise of the neighborhood, very much 
to the inward wrath of Mr. Apperly, who would have to re- 
fund the five-pound note, the new peer had accepted Ravens- 
bird as tenant and declined Mitchel, 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


107 


Much good Ravensbird would do in it; he’d got no wife!” 
was one of the dissatisfied comments gratuitously offered by 
the busy neighborhood. “ Who ever heard of an inn getting 
along without a missis in it:” 

Ravensbird soon rendered nugatory that objection; though 
whether to satisfy the grumblers or to please himself did not 
appear. He constituted Sophie its mistress by making her 
Mrs, Ravensbird; and Lady Adelaide Lester had to find 
another maid. « 

And for some few years after this period no particular 
changes took place; therefore we need not trace them step by 
step. After that changes and events came thick enough. 


CHAPTER XL 

SQUIKE LESTEK’S HOUSEHOLD. — WILFRED. 

It was the beginning of September and stormy weather. 
Never had a wilder or more ominous day been experienced 
than the one now passing; never did the sun set with a more 
angry or lurid glare; the trees were swayed to and fro as 
though they could not long withstand the blast; the sea-gulls 
flew overhead with their harsh screams; and the waves of the 
sea were tossing mountains high in their turbulence; signs that 
seemed to predict an awful night. 

“ They will catch it at sea to-night!” exclaimed Mr. Lester, 
turning round from the dinner-table, on which the dessert had 
just been placed, and gazing from the window as a gust 
stronger than any swept past. * 

“ I wonder you could shoot in this wind,” cried Lady Ade- 
laide, languidly lifting her head and speaking in a languid 
tone. “ Did you have good sport?” 

“ Very bad indeed: the wind, as you say, was against it. 
Dane, crack shot that he is, only bagged three brace : impossi- 
ble J}o take aim with that whirling blast in one’s eyes. I don’t 
think I ever felt the wind so high; and the beating up against 
it has made me dead tired. More walnuts for you^ young 
gentleman!” 

“ I thought the ponies would have gone over once on the 
heights,” returned Lady Adelaide. “ Georgie, dear, I am 
sure you have eaten sufficient.” 

“I have only had a few, mamma,” responded Master 
Georgie, who was sitting in state by Mr. Lester. “ Give me 
some more, papa. And, Maria, just pass me a slice of that 
cake. ” 


108 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“ Did you venture on the heights with the pony-carriage?’^ 
uttered Mr. Lester to his wife as he dropped a walnut or two 
into the boy’s plate. “Was that prudent, Adelaide, such a 
day as this?” 

“ I soon drove them off again when I found what the wind 
was,” laughed Lady Adelaide. “ I did not want a somersault 
into the sea, ponies, and carriage, and all. You say you are 
dead tired,” she continued after a pause; “ I fancy Ada 
must Aso be. What is she doing, Maria?” 

Maria Lester looked hastily down at the child on her knee. 
When the nurse introduced the children — four of them — a 
few minutes back, Maria had taken up the youngest — Ada — a 
pretty little girl between four and five. The child had dropped 
asleep with a piece of cake in her hands. It was the same 
Maria Lester whom you once saw a child herself; now twenty 
years of age. 

“ I will take her upstairs,” said Maria. 

“ But you have not finished, Maria. ” 

“ Thank you, papa; I do not require anything more.” 

Maria Lester rose and gently gathered the little girl in her 
arms without awaking her. Mr. Lester began speakii^ to his 
wife again before Maria was out of the room. 

“ Dane is coming in to tea, Adelaide.” 

“Dane! This evening?” 

The words were few, but the tone in which they were spoken 
betrayed annoyance and vexation. Mr. Lester smiled. 

“ Adelaide, I fancy you have taken a prejudice against Lord 
Dane. What’s the reason?” 

Her beautiful face — beautiful it was, still — flushed crimson, 
but she disclaimed the accusation eagerly. Too eagerly, Mr. 
Lester might have thought, had he been a keen-sighted, or 
suspicious man. 

“7 taken a prejudice against Lord Dane!” she uttered. 
“ What a strange idea! Why should you think that?” 

“ You seem to be annoyed at his visits, and to receive him 
coldly; forgetting, I presume, that he is, so to say, a cousin, 
or connection of yours. I’m sure I don’t wonder at his drop- 
ping, in frequently, for he must find the Castle dull.” 

“ Have you any idea why he comes so frequently?” asked 
Lady Adelaide, bending over her plate. 

“ Not I,” said Mr. Lester, “ except that our house is gayer 
than his. What other motive should he have?” 

“ None, I dare say. It was a passing thought that crossed 
me.” 

“ You are mysterious, Adelaide. Let us hear the thought.” 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


109 


“ No,” she laughed. ‘‘It is not intended for the public 
benefit.” 

Mr. Lester’s brow contracted. 

“Do you know, Adelaide, that you are sometimes capri- 
cious? You are so now.” 

“ I suppose it is my nature to be so, George. Don’t look 
cross. When you married me, you married me with my faults 
and failings about me, remember.” 

Mr. Lester said no more. But the conversation left a sore 
impression behind it. 

Maria Lester had proceeded upstairs with the little girl. 
The head nurse sat in the nursery, with two more young 
children, one being undressed, the other crying on the carpet; 
there were six in all, and the eldest, George, was but nine 
years old. 

“Look at this child, nurse! She. fell asleep on my lap 
directly after you brought her down. ” 

“ Tiresome little monkey!” responded the nurse. “ I can’t 
undress her yet, for I must get these two off, first. Be so kind 
as to lay her down in the bassinet, miss.” 

“ Where is Susan, this evening?” returned Maria. 

“ Oh — Susan! — what’s- the good’ of Susan for evening work? 
— I really *beg your pardon. Miss Lester, for answering you 
like that,” broke off the woman, as her recollection came to 
her, “ but I am so put out with that STisan, and my temper 
gets so worried, that I forget who I’m speaking to. The 
minute the children are gone in to dessert, Susan thinks her 
time is her own, and off. she goes, and will be away for two 
mortal hours, leaving me everything to do. J can’t leave the 
nursery and go after her, and I may ring and ring forever be- 
fore she’ll answer it. ” 

“ Where does she go?” 

“ Chattering with the other servants, or gallivanting some- 
where. I ought to have full control over Susan, miss, for 
she’s under me, and I have no more over her than I have 
over that wind that’s tearing round the house as if it would 
tear it to pieces. I’d leave, if it were not that I am so fond 
of the children; I declare I would. Miss Lester.” 

“ But why do you not speak to mamma?” 

“ Oh, miss, it’s that that puts me out. My lady won’t hear 
a word against Susan, just because she’s Tiffie’s niece. Tiffle 
speaks up for Susan, as is natural, apd Susan vows through 
thick and thin to my lady that she’s always at her post, doing 
her duty, and my lady believes her. The fact is, miss,” con- 
tinued the servant, lowering her voice, “ Tiffle has managed 


no 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


to get the ear of my lady, and if an angel from the skies came 
down to try to put her off it, he couldn^'t do it.^^ 

“ At any rate, Susan is not at her duty now,^^ remarked 
Miss Lester, ringing the bell. 

It was not answered; but in truth Maria scarcely gave time 
for it. She rang again immediately, a sharp, imperative peal. 
Of all the household, who should condescend to come up, but 
Tiflfle! 

“ What^s the good of your ringing like that, as if youM 
have the bell down?^^ began she, before she had gained the 
room. I won’t allow — ” 

“ It was I who rang,” curtly interrupted Miss Lester. ‘‘ I 
rang for Susan. ” 

Tiffie stood and held her tongue, somewhat taken aback. 
Her manner smoothed down to meekness; false as it was 
subtle. 

“ For Susan, miss! Does nurse want her? I have just sent 
her out .to do a little errand for me, thinking the young ladies 
and gentlemen were in the dining-parlor, and that she couldn’t 
be required in the nursery. I’ll send her up the moment she 
comes in, miss.” 

“ You see that she is wanted, Tiffie,” gravely replied Miss 
Lester. “ Here are three children, all requiring to be un- 
dressed at once, and it is impossible for one pair of hands to 
do it. Nurse tells me that Susan makes a point of being away 
at this hour; now, I think, you ought to speak to Susan, and 
order her to be more attentive to her duty. I shall speak to 
Lady Adelaide.” 

“ Begging your parding, miss, there’s no necessity for that, 
and it’ll do no good; my lady has unlimited confidence in me 
and in Susan. ” 

“ That may be, Tiffie, but it is right she should know that 
the children are neglected. Send Ann here to assist the nurse 
until Susan shall return.” 

The tone was imperative. Maria, gentle and mild as she 
was, yet possessed that quiet, nameless power of command 
which few care to resist. Tiffie stood aside as she left the 
room, and then Tiffie shuffled on in her wake, her eyes glanc- 
ing evil. 

Tiffie had played her cards well. When she found that 
Lady Adelaide was to be her master’s wife, her first thought 
was resentment; her intention, to depart forthwith. But when 
Lady Adelaide came home in the unexpected manner related, 
and Tiffie found that she was the Hall’s bona fide mistress— 
Tiffie* s mistress — a mistress endowed with very different power 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Ill 


from that invested in Miss Bordillion — then, to use a popular 
phrase, Tifile began to find out on which side her bread was 
buttered. Lady Adelaide was young, careless, yielding, and 
inexperienced, and it dawned over Tiffle’s mind that she might 
possibly still sway the household, and perhaps^sway her mis- 
tress also; so Tiffle swallowed her anger, and stopped on: She 
felt in a rage with everybody (she generally did), and did not 
much care where she vented it. However, she took care to 
make herself useful and agreeable to Lady Adelaide, and when 
Sophie quitted the hall, to become the wife of Richard Rav- 
ensbird, Tiffle succeeded her as the lady’s maid, retaining also 
her post of housekeeper. Years had gone on since then — ten 
years — and how Tiffle had contrived it was best known to her- 
self, but she had. wormed herself into the confidence of her 
mistress, and appeared indispensable to her comfort. 

Maria passed into her chamber, and stood before the large 
cheval-glass while she dressed herself for walking, doing it in 
a hurried manner, as though she feared being stopped or inter- 
rupted. Rarely has a glass given back a sweeter-looking 
countenance, though it may have done one of more strict 
beauty. Her features were delicate and clearly defined, the 
cheeks wearing a healthy, damask flush, and she had soft, 
dark eyes, and silky hair. She was of middle height, or 
nearly so, of elegant figure, and in manner quiet and graceful. 
A truly attractive girl was Maria Lester, and gossips premised 
that she would be marrying early. 

Ah, but there were two words to that. Some ye^rs before, 
when Maria was a young child, a relative of her mother had 
bequeathed to her fourteen thousand pounds; but it was so 
left that the interest was to be enjoyed by Mr. Lester until 
Maria married — not until she was of age, nothing was said 
about that, but until she married. So that, did Maria remain 
single till she was an old maid, and her father still lived, he 
would reap the eiy^ire benefit: she, none. This money was out 
on mortgage, at excellent interest, and it brought in Mr. Les- 
ter nine hundred a year. For an embarrassed man — and Mr. 
Lester was that now, for Lady Adelaide’s extravagance and 
his own weak indulgence to it had rendered him so — nine 
hundred a year was an enormous sum to relinquish. Mr. 
Lester was not a man of large income; his rent-roll produced 
barely three thousand a year. This money of Maria’s made it 
nearly four, and then it was all told; and they lived at the 
rate of five. Some thousands, bequeathed to Lady Adelaide 
by the late Lord Dane, had been spent long ago; altogether, 
Mr. Lester was now a man of deep perplexity and care; 


112 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


though, how deep, the neighbors little suspected. Be you very 
sure that, under such circumstances, neither he nor his wife 
would be in a hurry to encourage any marriage for Maria. 
She had only been home about a twelvemonth; that is, to re- 
side; until them, she remained with Miss Bordillion. 

And what of Wilfred Lester? A great deal, and most of it 
very sad, very blamable. Wilfred, was becoming, peoj^le 
feared, one of the black . sheep of the neighborhood; arid yet, 
he was of that unfortunate class who may be said to be as 
much sinned against as sinning. 

At a jiroper age, a commission had been purchased for him 
in one of the crack regiments — those whose duty seems chiefly 
to consist in attending upon her Majesty on state occasions. 
To the initiated in these matters, it is known that the expenses 
of such officers are enormous; almost necessarily so. Not 
rendered necessary by the nature of the service, or the rules of 
the regiment, but by that all-powerful incubus, custom — ex- 
ample, the doing as others do. The pay of one of these 
officers, compared to his expenditure, is but as a drop of water 
to the oc6an; most of them are men of rank, possessing a 
weighty paternal purse to back them, and those who do not 
possess one in reserve have no business to join, for they are 
certain to come to grief. Mr. Lester ought to have remem- 
bered this — to have remembered how very little he could afford 
to allow his son. 

He did not, and Wilfred entered. Careless, good-natured, 
attractive, and remarkably handsome, he was just the one to 
be made much of by his brother officers; never was there a 
young fellow more popular in - the corps than Cornet Lester; 
and — it is of no use to mince the matter — never was there one 
who ran more heedlessly into extravagance. Example is con- 
tagious, and Cornet Lester suffered himself to be swayed by it 
—swayed and ruined. Had Mr. Lester made him a better 
allowance (which, indeed, he ought to have ^one, or else not 
have placed him in the regiment) it would still have been 
swallowed up, though affairs might not have come to a crisis 
so' soon as they did. Wilfred was just twenty-two when he 
came down to Lanesheld and laid the statement of affairs be- 
fore his father. Money he must have, a large sum, or else 
leave the regiment. 

Mr. Lester was unable to give it him. It is possible he felt 
that his son — his eldest son — had not been dealt with precisMy 
as he ought to have been, and it caused him to be lenient now. 
AVilfred was in debt; dreadfully in debt. He could not return 
till at least some of it was liquidated, and what was to be done 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OAHL 


113 


it was difficult to say. Mr. Lester was in worse debt himself, 
painfully short (he always was) now of ready money, and 
could not assist 1m m. One alternative indeed there was, and 
it was suggested by Mr. Lester, that Wilfred should sell out, 
and apply the proceeds of the purchase to the liquidation. 
Driven by pressing necessity, this alternative was ultimately 
adopted; but it was a cruel blow to Wilfred Lester. He saw 
his prospects cut off, his future blighted; and when things were 
finally settled, and he returned to take up his abode in his 
father’s house, he felt like a blighted man, caring little what 
• became of him. A sore feeling was at his heart; he knew 
that, but for his father’s second family, for the high rate of 
expenditure kept up to please his father’s second wife, he 
should not have suffered; and he regarded himself as a sort of 
sacrifice on the shrine of everything that was unjust. 

Lady Adelaide, on her part, regarded Wilfred as an unwel- 
come interloper. She had never liked him. Excited against 
him in the first instance by Tiffie (who had deemed it well 
that her lady’s likings and dislikings should be regulated by 
her own), she had, even as a boy, made his home unpleasant 
to him, and when he returned for good, Lad^ Adelaide bore 
the infliction ill. A tacit, silent sort of antagonism was main- 
tained between them, of which Lady Adelaide from her'^ffsi- 
tion, of course obtained the best, and Tiffle did not fail to fan 
the flame. Wilfred occupied himself, listlessly enough, with 
outdoor sports, hunting, shooting, fishing, as the seasons per- 
mitted, but he was devoured with ennui, and at length took to 
passing most of his evenings at Miss Bordillion’s. 

It was well he did so, at least, in one sense, for soon, very 
soon, the ennui was dissipated. The dispirited, listless young 
man, who had been ready to throw himself into the ponds in- , 
stead of his fishing-line, and in truth cared little which of the 
two did go in, was suddenly aroused to life, and hope, and 
energy. Far from the present time hanging about his neck 
like a millstone, it became to him as a sunny Eden, tinged 
with the softest rapture. The dim, indistinct future, so dark, 
so visionless to his depressed view, suddenly broke from its 
clouds, and shone out in colors of the sweetest and rosiest hue 
— for he had learned to love Edith Bordillion. Hot with the 
unstable, fleeting nature of man’s general love, but with a 
pure, powerful, all-absorbing passion, akin to that felt by 
woman. 

A few months given to dreamy happiness, and then he spoke 
to Mr. Lester. The appeal perplexed Mr. Lester uncommon- 
ly. He could have no objection to Edith; she was of as good 


114 


LA©y ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


family as his son (it may almost be said, of the same), and 
there was no doubt she would inherit a snug fortune at the 
colonel’s death, for she was his only child. Colonel Bordillion 
had been in India now for many years, spending little, and 
making money. What perplexed Mr. Lester was his share in 
the affair. Wilfred, in his eagerness, protested they could live 
upon nothing — as good as nothing. He did not wish to cripple 
his father; let him allow them ever so small an income and 
they would make it suffice. Edith said they would. Mr. 
Lester pointed out to Wilfred that what he could allow would 
be very small indeed, but if the colonel would come forward 
with present help to Edith, he would add what he was able to 
spare. These statements were drawn out, and particulars 
written to Colonel Bordillion. 

The only one who protested against the match, w^s Lady 
Adelaide Lester. Hot openly; in private, to her husband. It 
was the most imprudent thing she ever met with. What did 
a young fellow like- Wilfred want to marry for? Better get 
him an appointment under government, or dispatch him some- 
where abroad, ^r. Lester listened, and inquired why. They 
were bent upon marrying, he said. Edith was a very nice 
girl, and if they would be contented to make a moderate in- 
come suffice, they might as well marry. He could give but 
little; but the colonel would most likely come down with four 
or five hundred a year. 

Suppose he should refuse to come down with anything?” 
returned Lady Adelaide. 

“ Then the affair would be at an end,” emphatically replied 
Mr. Lester. “ In that case, I would never give my consent.” 

Meanwhile, Wilfred and Edith lived on, looking forward to 
the answer of the colonel, and reveling in the golden visions of 
dream-land. Are such ever realized? I never knew them to 
be. In due course the reply of the colonel came. It was ad- 
dressed to Wilfred, and inclosed a short note for Edith. 

Have you ever passed from the broad light of day into the 
gloomy darkness of a subterranean dungeon? If so, you may 
remember the utter chill that seemed to overwhelm your feel- 
ings, both mental and bodily. J ust so did the news from In- 
dia plunge its recipients from the sunny brightness of expect- 
ancy, to the blackness of despair; but, whatever your own ex- 
perience of a chill may have been, it was as nothing compared 
to that which shivered the frames and hearts of Wilfred Lester 
and Edith Bordillion. 

The colonel would have been delighted with the union, and 
cordially given them his blessing; nay, he gave it them stilJ, 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


115 


should it be carried out; but of help, of money, he had none 
to give. The Calcutta Bank, the one in which he had hoarded 
the savings of years, no inconsiderable sum, had just gone 
smash, and left him penniless. The public newspapers would 
supply them with details. 

Wilfred put up the letter, aild sat on, buried in a gloomy 
reverie: Edith sat opposite to him, not weeping, but looking 
much inclined for it. The letter had come in by the evening^s 
post addressed to him at Miss Bordillion^s, and it happened 
that they had received it alone, for that lady was out. 

“I have decided what we must do,^^ Wilfred said, after 
awhile. ‘^Edith, you were — you are — to "be my wife; will 
you be guided by me in this business?” 

“ Of course I will,” she answered. 

And you would not like — after all our fond hopes and 
plans — that we should be separated forever?^^ 

A passing shiver, and a faint answer. 

‘‘No, I should not.” 

“ Then, my darling, before this week is over, you must be 
mine. ” 

She looked up with a start of surprise, thinking he was jest- 
ing. 

We must be married privately, and declare the fact after it 
is over. Otherwise nothing in the world will prevent their 
separating us: I foresee it. Don’t look scared, Edith; it will 
all come right in 'the end. Say nothing yet about this news.” 

“ But how are we to live?” 

“My father, when he knows we are married, will allow us 
something, and we must economize till brighter days turn up. 
Shall you be afraid of it?” 

“ Not of economizing. But — ” 

Wilfred stopped her: he deemed it more politic to drown 
objections than to combat them. And he managed, wonder- 
ful to say, to obtain her consent to the plan. 

It was strange that he should be able to do so; but far more 
strange was it that Tiffle obtained an inkling of what was 
going forward. She poked, she pried, she ferreted; it was her 
daily habit; and in ordinary cases no wonder that she succeed- 
ed in unearthing secrets, though how she managed to scent 
this one, was in truth a marvel. The very day before that 
fixed for uniting them— and no soul knew of it, as they be- 
lievedf but themselves — Tiffle went mincing into Lady Ade- 
laide’s room, her hands meekly folded, and the whites of her 
eyes turned up. 

“ Oh, my lady! such dreadful inhiquerty that has come to 


116 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


my knowledge! I have been turned upside down to think how 
you and dear master’s being deceived. ” 

“ What is the matter now?” asked Lady Adelaide. 

“ Them two mean-spirited weasils are going to get married 
on the sly. I mean Mr. Wilfred and his sweetheart^” added 
Tiffle, perceiving her lady’s puzzled look. “ Without saying 
a syllable, or letting any soul know it, my lady, they are going 
to ignite themselves together in secret till death do them 
part.” 

‘^But why in secret?” demanded the amazed Lady Ade- 
laide. They are to be married when news arrives from the 
colonel, and it is expected daily. There is no motive, no in- 
ducement for them to do in secret what they may soon do 
openly. You must have found a mare’s nest for once, Tiffle. ” 

“ My lady — craving your parding — are the nestesses I find 
ever mare’s nestesses?” responded Tiffle. “ I know my place, 
and what’s due to your ladyship too well, I hope, to bring you 
tales of news that could turn into mare’s nestesses. They 
have got quite motive enough — let them alone for that: and 
the motive is, my lady, that they have heard from Injia, and 
the colonel can’t help them by as much as a shilling a year, 
for he has lost every ioter of his fortune. The place where it 
was kept has gone bankript, my lady.” 

Is this true?” uttered Lady Adelaide. 

“ It’s gospial true,” returned Tiffle. “And those two sly 
ones, thinking there’s no chance now of Mr. Lester’s consint, 
are going to take French leave, and marry without it. I can’t 
quite come at the precise time it’s to be, but I’m sure many 
days won’t go over first. ” 

“ How did you come at it at all?” interrupted Lady Ade- 
laide. “ How do you come at things?” 

Tiffle’s countenance became very innocent. 

“ I keep my eyes and ears open, my lady.” 

“ You must listen at doors, and behind hedges, Tiffle.” 

“ My lady, whatever I do, it’s out of regard to your lad}^- 
ship — that you should not be hoodwinked by designing ser- 
pints. And I tell you for a truth, and you may believe me 
with conferdince, that he’s going to convert that girl into Mrs. 
Wilfred.” 

Lady Adelaide laughed — a laugh that sounded more like de- 
rision than mirth. 

“That is soon stopped,” she said. “ Give me that shawl, 
Tiffle.” 

She was throwing a shawl over her shoulders, to proceed to 
the dressing-room of Mr. Lester — for he, like herself, was 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


117 


dressing for dinner — when Tiffle placed herself in her way, 
and spoke demurely: 

“ If I might venture to segest to you, my lady, I^d jnst let 
^em do it, and not stop ^em. If it comes to Mr. Wilfred 
begging consent of his father, there^s no answering but he may 
get it, and a yearly allowince with it. But when master 
finds out that they have gone and done it of themselves, in de- 
fiance of him, as may be said, then the fat ^11 be in the fire. 
Master won^t look at ^em, or give ^em a farthing, and it ^11 be 
exactly what they deserve. 

Lady Adelaide, it must be presumed, found this advice 
good, for she kept the tidings to herself, and let things take 
their course. The consequence was precisely what Tiffle had 
suggested. Wilfred married, and — to borrow her own words 
— ^the fat ^vas in the fire. In no measured degree, either. 
Wilfred purposed telling his father in the course of a few days 
after the event, but Lady Adelaide forestalled him, and her 
manner of imparting the news was in the highest degree cal- 
culated to anger and inflame Mr. Lester. A furious interview 
succeeded between father and son. And Mr. Lester cast him 
off, declaring that he should never have assistance from him 
during his own life, nor would he leave it him after death. 

“ And that^s glorious news,^^ cried Tiffle, to her mistress; 
“ worth a choris of hallelugiers. It^s your ladyship^’s own dear 
child. Master George, that will inherit, as is but right he 
should. 

“ Nonsense, Tiffle!'^ But Tiffle saw the beaming look of 
satisfaction which, in spite of the “ nonsense, overspread the 
features of Lady Adelaide at the suggestion. 

Months had elapsed now since the marriage, nearly twelve, 
which brings us again to the present, and to Maria Lester 
dressing herself for her evening walk. As she turned from 
the glass, she stood for a moment at the window contemplat- 
ing the weather, listening to the howling wind. 

‘‘ It is certainly an unusually boisterous evening, she solil- 
oquized, “ but I would rather encounter it than remain at 
home to meet Lord Dane.^^ With that, she descended to the 
hall, and as she crossed it she addressed a . man-servant — 
“ James, should I be inquired for in the drawing-room, say 
that I have gone to take tea with Miss Bordillion. 


118 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


CHAPTER XIL 

SHAD. 

Scarcely had Lady Adelaide reached the drawing-room, 
Mr. Lester lingering still at the dessert- table, when Lord Dane 
was announced. He had altered far more than Lady Ade- 
laide. Could it be that that tall, stern man, with the gray 
hair mixing with his luxuriant locks, was the former slender 
stripling, Geoff ry Herbert Dane? His age was but eight- 
and-thirty yet, but he looked older than his years. Handsome 
he was still, and handsome he ever would be, for he had the 
prominent, well-shaped features of the Dane family, but there 
was a fixed expression of care upon his brow. High in posi- 
tion, wealthy in means, possessed of all the extraneous acces- 
sories to make life happy, one might wonder how the care got 
there — like the flies in amber. 

Lady Adelaide stood in her evening dress of white brocaded 
silk, jewels in her hair, on her neck, on her fair arms. High- 
ly extravagant was she in her attire, as the family income 
knew to its cost; but dress she would, and dress she did. As 
Lord Dane greeted her, he could not help thinking how little 
she was changed; charming and attractive did she look, almost 
as much so as when she was his young love. 

“ What a terrible night!” she exclaimed. 

“ Yes, it is blowing great guns,” replied Lord Dane. I 
hope there will be no disasters at sea.” 

“ Did you come on foot?” 

“ On foot! This little way! oh, yes,” he laughed. 

“ Nay, not for the distance,” she said. “ I was thinking 
of the weather. ” 

“ I have become inured to that, whatever it maybe: my 
nine years’ travel did that good service for me. ” 

“ I can not imagine what attraction you could have found, 
to keep you so many years. And you never remained long in 
one place, you say. ” 

“ No.. I went everywhere, everywhere in Europe, not out 
of it. By the way, though, yes, I did go out of it, for I ex- 
plored Turkey in Asia.” 

And your attraction, I ask. Lord Dane?” 

“ I had none. The very restlessness would imply the want 
of that. I have found that since my return. It is here, at 
home.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


119 


She lifted her eyes inquiringly toward his. 

“An attraction that, when a coDsciousness first dawned 
over my spirit, I strove to combat; but the more I strove, the 
less would it take its departure. I believe I have no resources 
but to yield to it. Adelaide — forgive me, that I speak to you 
in the familiar terms of former years — will you be my advo- 
cate? will you hear me with favor?" 

He spoke in the low, tender tone that had once been as the 
sweetest music to her ear — he took her hand in his pleading 
earnestness. Will you excuse Lady Adelaide for the error she 
fell into? remembering old days, it was perhaps a natural one. 
She thought he was pleading for her favor; not for her influ- 
ence with another. A crimson blush overspread her face; but 
it was succeeded by a deadly paleness. 

“Have you forgotten who I am?" she asked, in alow, 
proud tone, not so much in resentment, but as though she 
thought he really had forgotten it. “ You forget yourself. 
Lord Dane: I am the wife of Mr. Lester; the mother of his 
children. " 

Lord Dane released her hand, and broke out into a half 
laugh : its derision was not so wholly suppressed but that it 
jarred on the ear of Lady Adelaide. 

“ You threw me away when you married Mr. Lester, Lady 
Adelaide, and I fully understood that I was thrown away for- 
ever: I have not allowed myself to contemplate it in any other 
aspect. I ask you ten thousand pardons for having expressed 
myself badly, which I conclude I must have done. The at- 
traction I alluded to, as drawing me to this house, is Maria 
Lester. " 

A burning, passionate suffusion of shame dyed the brow of 
Lady Adelaide. Never did woman fall into a more awkward 
or humiliating error. She could have struck herself; she 
could have struck Lord Dane : she opened her lips to speak, 
but no appropriate words would come — none that would not 
make the matter worse. That Lord Dane should enjoy her 
confusion was but natural: perhaps he felt half repaid for 
what she had made him suffer in days gone by. 

“ I have led a roving life long enough," he continued, in a 
calm, matter-of-course tone, assumed possibly to put her at 
ease; “ and it is time I settled down. I did not think it could 
have escaped your observation that I have been striving to win 
Miss Lester. I never met with any one I so thoroughly es- 
teemed," he emphatically added; “ and my motive in speak- 
ing to you is to crave your influence with Mr. Lester that he 
will allow me to make her Lady Dane. " 


120 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


That Lord Dane had been marked in his attention to Maria 
had certainly not eluded the observation of Lady Adelaide, 
and a suspicion had crossed her mind that it might bear a seri- 
ous meaning: tliishad been in her thoughts fhat very evening, 
when she had, somewhat mysteriously, inquired of Mr. Lester 
whether he had any idea why Lord Dane came so frequently. 
How was it, then, that she had forgotten this, and jumped to, 
that other idea, touching herself? Her face burned still. But 
she essayed to turn it oS defiantly, and threw back her head 
with a haughty gesture. 

“ Why do you not apply to Mr. Lester yourself. Lord Dane?^^ 

“ Because I prefer to apply, in the first instance, to you,^^ 
he answered, in a courteous tone, as he took a seat near her. 
“ I would ask it of your kindness to intercede with Mr. Les- 
ter. It has been told to me that he will not regard favorably 
any suitor for his daughter. ” 

What was Lady Adelaide to reply to this? Mr. Lester 
would have no objection in the abstract to Marians marrying; 
Lady Adelaide, on her part, would have been glad to see. the 
day that removed her from the Hall; but what they both did 
object to, and would find most inconvenient, was the resign- 
ing nine hundred a year. In short, they were unable to re- 
sign it, and the only alternative was, to keep Maria. Lord 
Dane, however, could dive into motives as quickly as most 
men, and he h^ formed his resolution. 

“ I scarcely need mention that, in seeking Miss Lester for 
my wife, I seek lut her,^^ he resumed. “ There is, it occurs 
to me that I have heard, some trifling paltry income that 
was bequeathed to go with Maria when she marries, but the 
large revenues of the Dane estate, the settlements I am enabled 
to offer, preclude the necessity of her bringing money to add 
to them. Will you, dear Lady Adelaide, tell Mr. Lester that 
I wish to take Maria alone; that any little fortune of hers, I 
:shall beg him to retain.’’^ 

“ But why not tell him yourself repeated Lady Adelaide 
in a far more gracious tone. 

“ Mr. Lester is a man sensitive on pecuniary matters,” 
smiled Lord Dane, ‘‘ and will receive that part of the communi- 
cation better from you than from me. Legal arrangements, 
of course, can be called in, to bind the bargain. May I count 
upon your interest with Maria?” 

Some stifling weight seemed to oppress her, and she made 
no immediate repl}^ She rose from her seat, in agitation that 
she could not wholly hide, walked to the window, and drawing 
aside the blind, stood looking out on the boisterous night. 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


121 


Lord Dane watched her. Was her strange manner caused by 
any lingering tenderness for him on her own part? He could 
not think that; but he wondered, and he fell to speculating on 
its cause. Lady Adelaide came back, and interrupted him. 

y I prefer to remain neutral in this affair. Lord Dane,’^ she 
said. “ I will not second your efforts to gain Miss Lester, 
but I will not impede them. All I can do is to repeat to Mr. 
Lester, impartially, what you have said, and then the matter 
must progress, or the contrary, unbiased, uninterfered with by 
me.^^ 

“You will not be against me with Maria?” 

“ I have said I will not. I shall remain wholly and entirely 
neutral.” 

Lord Dane bowed. 

“ She is at home, I presume.” 

“ Yes,” replied Lady Adelaide, ringing the bell. “ Tell 
Miss Lester that the tea is coming in,” she said, to the man 
who answered it. 

“ Miss Lester is gone out, my lady.” 

“Out! This turbulent night!” 

“ She has been gone this half hour, my lady. She is tak- 
ing tea at Miss Bordillion’s. ” 

“ Maria does do things that nobody else would think of,” 
observed Lady Adelaide to Lord Dane, and at that moment 
Mr. Lester entered. 

And now to follow Maria. As she sped along from the Hall, 
the wind nearly took her off her feet, but she kept up bravely, 
and laughed as she laid hold of objects to steady herself by. 
By the road. Miss Bordillion’s house was about ten minutes’ 
walk from her own house; but there was a path through the 
wood, half as long again: a quarter of an hour say, it would 
take her that way, and Maria chose it as being the most shel- 
tered. 

The shades of evening were drawing on apace, and the wood 
struck a gloom upon her as she turned into it. There the wind 
did not impede her; though, as it moaned and shrieked over- 
head, and shook the trees to their very center, imparting a 
weird-like, ghastly loneliness to the scene, Maria began think- 
ing of the supernatural stories she had read of the old German 
forests; and as some object suddenly struck out from the trees, 
and stood in her path, she positively could not suppress a 
scream. The next moment, however, she was laughing. 

“ How stupid I am; but you should not have startled me, 
Wilfred.” 

A tall, slender young man of four-and-twenty, wearing a 


122 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


shooting-coat, and carrying a gun in his hand. His face was 
almost delicately beautiful, and his dark-blue eyes, deeply set, 
were shaded by long, black lashes. His forehead was broad 
and white, and his hair was black, like the lashes. Such was 
Wilfred Lester. 

“ I did not intend to startle you, Maria: who was to think 
you would be in the wood to-night?” he said as he turned to 
walk beside her. ‘‘ Where are vou off to?” 

Miss Bordillion ’s. How — how — is Edith?” she added, 
with much hesitation. 

‘‘ What! I suppose it is high treason even to inquire after 
her,” returned he, noting the timid tone. “ Have they for- 
bidden you even her name? Come, Maria, confess; you can^t 
say more than I guess; perhaps not so much.” 

“ Something very like it,” she replied. 

“ Of course. Perhaps they have interdicted your speaking 
to me, if we happen to meet?” he pursued. 

Ho, Wilfred. They have not done that yet.” 

“ Yet! ThaPs to be the next thing. I suppose you live in 
daily expectation of it. ” 

“ How are you getting on?” she returned, evading his 
question. “ Is Edith better?” 

“We are not getting on at all, Maria; unless going back- 
ward is getting on. It’s backward with us, generally, and 
backward with Edith.” 

“ Is she not getting strong?” 

“Ho, and she never will, and never can, while things are 
as they are. If there’s justice in heaven — ” 

“ Hush, Wilfred! It will do no good.” 

“And no harm — but have it as you like. You have not 
answered my question, Maria. I say you live in expectation 
of an order to pass me when we meet. Is it not so?” 

“ Should it come, Wilfred, it will be partially your own 
fault. ” 

“ Ho doubt of it. I am all in fault, and they are all in the 
right. But I did not expect to hear you say it!” 

“ You are too petulant with me without a cause, Wilfred,” 
she said, turning her kind face upon him full of anxious ex- 
pression. “ You know that I care for you more than I do for 
any one in the world. Even papa, I am not sure that I love 
and care for as I do for you,” she added, in a tone of apology, 

“ if it be not wicked to say it. But I have not seen much of 
him of late years, and — ” 

“ And he has been so exclusively occupied with his lady- wife, 1 
with his children, to the neglect of us, that it would be little i 


LADY ADSLAIDE’s OATH. 


123 


wonder if all your love for him had faded and died/^ inter- 
rupted Wilfred Lester. “ Speak the truth out fearlessly, 
Maria. Do you deem that, under such circumstances, they 
have a right to forbid our intercourse? I speak of you and 
myself, he added, dashing his hair from his brow, “ not of 
Edith. 

“ If they did forbid it, I am not sure that I should obey,^^ 
she steadily answered. “ I have debated the point with my- 
self much lately, and I can not tell what would be my course 
of action. I hope it will not be put to the proof. But I re- 
peat that it will be partly your fault if it comes. What are 
these tales that are going about respecting you?'^ she asked, 
lowering her voice. 

“ Tales uttered Wilfred. • 

“ That you are taking to ill-courses — to poaching for game 
and fish — to stealing out at night with evil men! Wilfred, 
she shivered, “ you know of the attack oh Lord Dane's 
keeper?" 

“ I should think all the world, for ten miles round, knew of 
that," returned he, carelessly. “ Well?" 

“ They say that — that you were one of them, disguised." 

“ Oh, they do, do they! Give a dog a bad name, and hang 
him! I wonder they did not bring in my wife as well, and say 
she accompanied me. Who carried this precious news to you, 
Maria?" 

“ I don't know how it reached the Hall; I was too sick and 
terrified to inquire; I have some idea it was through Tiffle — 
'that she communicated it to Lady Adelaide. Papa walked 
into his own room when it told him, and I saw him shaking 
like a leaf. Wilfred, I know you are forbidden the Hall, but, 
accused of such a crime, you should brave the mandate. Go 
into my father's presence and deny it — that is, if you can 
deny it." 

“ If I can deny it! What do you mean, Maria? Do you 
think I go out by night to murder gamekeepers?" 

“ Then you will, for once, come to the Hall and disclaim 
it," she eagerly said. 

‘‘ No. If I did commit murder, it would be my father and 
his wife who have driven me to it; let them enjoy the doubt as 
they best may. " 

‘‘ But, Wilfred, is it true that you go out poaching!" 

^‘I! poaching! How has your mind been thus poisoned 
against me? I have my game license. " 

“But they talk — they talk of gins and snares," she whis- 


124 LADY ADELAIDE -S OATH. 

pered; “of the entrapping game, wholesale, to — Wilfred! 
what's that?" 

The hasty, startled tone in which the last words were 
nttered, caused Wilfred Lester to lift his head and peer around 
him. He saw nothing. 

“There was some one watching us," she breathed. 
“ There; where the trees are thick. How strange!" 

“ It must have been your fancy, Maria. Who would be 
likely to watch us? To what end?" 

“lam quite certain it was not fancy. I saw a face bend- 
ing toward us, trying, as it seemed, to hear what we were say- 
ing. I was not quite sure at first, and I looked steadfastly, 
and then it moved away. It seemed about the height of a boy, 
and it ivas like a boy's face. Wilfred, you need not doubt 
me." 

Wilfred Lester strode to the spot indicated, and pressed 
through the trees. Not any creature was in sight, human or 
inhuman, but there was a narrow path striking off further into 
the wood, favorable to escape. 

“ Some wandering thief of a youngster, come to hunt if 
there might be a stray partridge dropped," he remarked. 
“ The sight of us has scared him away." 

“ What his motive may have been, or what he came for, I 
know not; but there he certainly was, and watching us," re- 
turned Maria. 

They emerged from the wood. To the right lay the resi- 
dence of Miss Bordillibn; to the left, the little cottage inhab- 
ited by Wilfred Lester; the latter not many yards off, but an 
angle of the road hid it from view. As they stood, talking 
yet, before branching off on their separate paths, a very curi- 
ous-looking lad came running past. Slim to a degree, with 
restless wriggling movements, he was not unlike a serpent; he 
had that old, precocious face sometimes seen in the deformed, 
and sly, sly eyes. Not that he was deformed, only very 
stunted for his years, which were near fifteen. An ordinary 
spectator might have thought him ten. 

“ Halloo, Shad," cried Mr. Wilfred Lester, “ where are you 
scuttering off to?" 

The boy stopped. Rejoicing in the baptismal name of Shad- 
rack, he had never, in the memory of the neighborhood, been 
called anything but Shad. His other name nobody knew, and 
it did not clearly appear that he had one. Nearly fifteen years 
ago, he was first seen at the hut of old Goody Bean; she said 
he was her daughter’s who had been many a year away from 
home; but Goody Bean was not renowned for veracity. To 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH.. 125 

whomsoever he belonged, there he had been from the first day 
to this. 

“ Please, sir, I'm a-going home; and I've been getting some 
sticks for granny. " 

He spoke more like a boy of ten than of his own years; but, 
looking at his sharp face, it might be doubted whether the 
simplicity was not put on. It was one of two things: that he 
was a very unsophisticated young gentleman, or else one of 
rare and admirable cunning. 

Have you been in the wood to get those. Shad?" de- 
manded Miss Lester, looking at the few bits of fagots in the 
boy's hands. 

“ I've been on'y on tother side the hedge, miss; I doesn't 
like the wood when the trees moans and shakes. " 

‘‘ Have you not been in the wood?" she returned, looking 
keenly at him. 

“ I was there yesterday, miss." 

“ I spoke of this evening." 

“ Ho," he said, shaking his head from side to side, some- 
thing like the trees. “ Granny telled me to go into the wood, 
and bring her a good bundle, but I wouldn't when I heard the 
wind; and I expec's a whacking for it." 

He shambled off. Miss Lester turned to her brother. “ Is 
he to be believed, or not? It may have been he who was 
watching us." 

“ Very likely. It is of no consequence if he was. As to 
believing him, I think he is even less worthy of credit than his 
grandmother; and that's saying a great deal. Why! what 
does she want?" 

A decent-looking woman, with a sour face, was coming full 
pelt toward them from the direction of Wilfred's cottage, call- 
ing out as she ran, “ Master! Master!" 

Wilfred took a step forward to meet her. 

“ Is the house on fire?" quoth he. 

“ Sir," returned Sarah — for that was the name she bore, 
and she was his servant — my mistress is lying like one dead; 
I'm not sure but she's gone." 

A moment's bewildered hesitation and he started off; but 
arrested his steps again, and turned^ to Maria: 

Will you not come, in the name of humanity? Your en- 
tering my house to say a word of comfort to Edith — dying as 
she may be, as I fear she is, for the want of countenance, of 
kindness — will not poison Mr. and Lady Adelaide Lester, 
Judge between me and them, Maria," 


126 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


He waited for no answer, but sped on. The appeal was 
successful, and Maria followed with the maid. 

Edith, who had been for some weeks in a very precarious 
state of health, had fallen on the floor in attempting to move 
from the sofa. Sarah heard the noise and ran in; her mis- 
tress looked so still and deathlike, for she had fainted, that the 
woman was frightened, and as speedily ran out again, hoping 
to get assistance; and in the road she saw her master. They 
lifted her up, and she revived; but she could not talk much 
to Maria. The latter, who had not seen her for many, many 
weeks, interdicted, as she was, from going near her brother 
and his wife, was shocked at the change, and surely thought 
she would not be long in this world. 

“ Sarah,” she exclaimed to the servant, with whom she was 
alone a few moments, ere departing, “ what a terribly weak 
state your mistress appears to be in! what can cause it?” 

“It’s just famine,” bluntly returned the woman, “and 
nothing else. ” 

Maria was shocked and bewildered at the answer, and could 
only stare at the speaker. 

Famine she uttered, feeling ready to faint, herself. 
“ Oh, Sarah! things can not be as bad as that with my 
brother!” 

“ They ain’t much better, and haven’t been for some time, 
so far as missis is concerned. Miss Lester. Me and master, 
we can eat hard food; bread-and-cheese, or bread-and-bacon, 
or a bit o’ meat and a heap o’ potatoes and onions made into 
a Irish stew, and we can wash it down with water and thrive 
upon it. But missis — she can’t: she could no more swallow 
them things than the saucepans and gridirons they’re cooked 
in. When folks are delicate and weak in health, they re- 
quire delicate food. Beef-tea, and jellies, and oysters, and 
a bit o’ chicken, or a nice cut out of a joint of meat, with a 
glass or two of good wine every day; that’s what Miss Edith 
wants. And she’s just going into her grave for the want of 
it. ” 


Maria turned from the door on her way to Miss Bordillion’s, 
feeling that her brain was as a chaos. Suffering — d3dng, from 
want of proper food! Maria had never been brought into con- 
tact with these hard realities of life; had never glanced at the 
possibility of their touching her own family. 

Miss Bordillion — a gentle lady now, in a close cap and white 
hair, was surprised to see Maria come in. She had not ex- 
pected her through such a wind, and it was later than Maria’s 
usual hour. No trace of the heart-conflict she had to do bat- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


127 


tie with for years, and to conquer, was discernible on her 
features — always excepting the hair: that had turned whit^ 
-before its time. 

Maria threw off her shawl and bonnet, and sat down to the 
tea-table, in the middle of which meal she had disturbed Miss 
Bordillion. The latter rung the bell, and the njaid brought 
in a cup and saucer. 

“ Some butter,^ ^ said her mistress. 

“ You never were taking your tea without butter!^^ ex- 
claimed Maria. ‘‘ Eating dry toast!^^ 

“It is well to abstain from butter sometimes, if we are 
bilious,'’^ said Miss Bordillion. 

But Maria observed that she got quietly up, and, surrepti- 
tiously taking the sugar-basin from the sideboard, placed it 
upon the table. So that she was also abstaining from that — 
and Maria had never heard that sugar would do good or harm 
to bile. An inkling of the truth flashed over her. 

“ You are abstaining from motives of economy she said 
in a low tone. 

Miss Bordillion would have smiled off the subject with a 
jest, but Maria was eager and persistent. 

“Why should you treat me as a child, or a stranger she 
continued. “ Dear Miss Bordillion, I have just been initiated 
into the necessities of one household; let me hear what is 
amiss in yours. " 

“You have mentioned the word, Maria — necessities,^^ was 
the reply of Miss Bordillion. “ My household and luxuries 
have nearly parted company. Since you and Edith left me, 

I have been thrown entirely upon my own income: and that, 
you know, is little more than a hundred a year.^^ 

“But, to go without sugar and butter!’^ repeated Maria, 
unable to lose^ight of the phase of the question practically 
before her. 

“ hTo great deprivation to me,^^ smiled Miss Bordillion. 

“ And considering I do not pay rent for my house, which your 
father has never yet permitted me to do, I could make my 
income suffice for my moderate wants: but, alas, Maria! two 
families have to be kept out of it.’’"' 

“ Two!^^ uttered Maria. 

“ Can I see your brother and Edith starve?’^ 

Maria made no reply. Her heart was beating. 

“How do you suppose they have lived?'’ ^ proceeded Miss 
Bordillion. “ For a few months after their marriage, I re- 
mained very angry, and did not see them; I thought it so im- 
prudent, so unjustifiable^ steii to have taken, and I joined 


m 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Mr. Lester in his blame. They were positively without re- 
sources, without any, and during that period they parted with 
all their trifling valuables, and also got in debt. Of course 
that stopped their credit; that, and Mr. Lester’s known dis- 
pleasure — ” 

“ The tradespeople might safely trust them,” interrupted 
Maria. “ Wilfred is my father’s eldest son, and the estate will 
descend to him some time.” 

“ Have you forgotten that the estate is not entailed?” asked 
Miss Bordillion, striving to speak in a careless tone. “Hot 
an acre of it need come to Wilfred, not a single shilling: he 
may find himself as penniless at his father’s death, as he is 
now. ” 

“ Oh, Miss Bordillion! do not hint at any thing so unjust.” 

“ A few weeks ago, Edith’s baby was born, and died. She 
was very ill, and they sent for me. I deliberated whether or 
not to go: my own heart was inclined to forgiveness, but I did 
not like to do what would displease Mr. Lester. However, I 
went. Apart from Edith’s state, I found things very bad. 
The rent of the cottage was- in arrears, and they had nothing. 
What could I do, but help them?” 

“ And you help them still?” 

“ My dear, but for me, they would never have a meal. And 
all out of my poor little income. So don’t wonder,” she added, 
with an attempt at merriment, “ that my butter and sugar 
are too costly to be approached lightly. ” ^ 

Maria fell into a most unpleasant reverie. She was revolv- 
ing all she had heard and seen, all she feared. The part of 
the whole which she most shrunk from was the rumor touch- 
ing the ill doings of her brother. V rged on by the necessities 
of home, of Edith, what might he not do. 

“ Have you heard the whispers about Wilfred?” she asked, 
aloud, flying from her own thoughts. “ That he — that he — 
has been seen out at night, on Lord Dane’s lands?” 

“Hush!” interrupted Miss Bordillion, glancing round her 
with a tremor that seemed born of fear. 


CHAPTER XIII. j 

AH AWFUL HIGHT — ^AHD AH AWFUL SCEHE. ] 

Rarely had such a night been known within the memory 1 
of the oldest inhabitant of Danesheld. The storm of wind was 5 
terrific: now, it swept through the air with a rushing, boom- I 
ing sound; now, it shook old gables and tall chimneys, un- j 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


129 


hinged shutters, and crushed down out-houses; and now it 
l^caused men and women to stagger as they strove to walk 
^^long. But for the wind, the night would have been nearly 
as bright as day, for the large, clear moon was at the full; but 
the clouds that madly swept across its face obscured its bright- 
ness, causing a dark shadow to fall upon the earth. Even the 
fitful gusts, when clouds were absent, seemed to hide the 
moon^s rays, and dim them. 

A knot of men were congregated in the tap-room of the Sail- 
or's Rest. Richard Ravensbird, looking not a day older than 
when you saw him last, hard, composed, phlegmatic as ever, 
was waiting on them, or joining in their converse, as the case 
might be. Sophie was in the bar-parlor. She did look older. 
Somehow, Frenchwomen, after they pass thirty, do age im- 
accoimtably. Not that Sophie had changed m manner; she 
was free of tongue and ready at repartee, like she always had 
been. 

“ How's Cattley getting on? Have ye heard?” asked one 
of the men of Ravensbird, taking his pipe from his mouth to 
speak. 

Ravensbird had handed a fresh jug of ale to another of the 
company, and was counting the halfpence returned into his 
hand. 

“ Cattley may be better, or he may be worse, for all I 
know, " returned he, when he had finished counting. “It's 
no concern of mine; I don't meddle with other folks's busi- 
ness. " * 

“ 'Tain't much meddling, landlord, to hear whether an in- 
jured man's getting on his legs again, or whether he's a going 
to have 'em laid out stiff," retorted the questioner. “I ha^ 
been at sea three days, and 'tis but nateral to ask after a poor 
fellow as have been a' most murdered when one gets to shore 
again. " 

“A fine trouble your boat had to geFhome," put in a 
man, before anyone else could speak. “ I was down the beach 
this afternoon, and see it a-laboring. ” 

“Trouble!" echoed the other. “I never 'hardly was out 
in such a gale — and the wind blowing us right ashore. It took 
our best management, I can tell ye, to keep her off it. Does 
nobody know anything of Cattley?'^ 

“ Cattley's better, "'answered one who sat in a corner. “ I 
saw Mr. Bruff to-day, and asked him. He said he was going 
on all right. My lord's downright savage, though, because 
the fellows are off." 

5 


130 


LADY ADELAIDE S OATH. 


“ What fellows cried the sailor, in a quick tone. Not 
Beecher and Tom Long:^^ 

“ Beecher and Tom Long. Cattley was well enough to be 
taken into the hall yesterday from his bed; they wrapped him 
up in blankets, put him in a chair, and carried him in; and 
Beecher and Tom Long were brought up from the guard- 
house in charge of the police. But Cattley couldn-’t swear to 
them; he said he had no moral doubt that they were the two, 
but Could not speak to it with certainty. Of course that put 
a stop to all chance of conviction, and Lord Dane was obliged 
to liberate them. Such a lecture as he read them first!^' 

‘‘ Did he?^^ 

“ Bruff heard it. He was present during the time, close to 
my lord^’s chair, and he said his lordship was as vexed and 
snappish as could be. Old Beecher came forward, with all 
the brass in the world, and said he’d take an oath his son was 
in bed at home the night the row happened. Lord Dane told 
him his oaths went for nothing, and he regretted the evidence 
was not more conclusive.” 

“ But there was a third engaged in the attack,” resumed 
the sailor. 

“ Said to be. Cattley speaks of another, who was watching 
from a short distance. He did not join in the attack.” 

‘‘ That was Drake then; not a doubt on’t. Smuggling or 
poaching, it all comes alike to him. I’ll lay any money it 
was Drake.” 

“You’d lose it, then. The third fellow was a tall, thin 
man. Drake’s short and stumpy. I say, landlord, what’s your 
opinion of it all?” 

“ Haven’t I just told you that I mind my own business?” 
returned Mr. Eavensbird. “ If everybody did the same 
there ’d be less contention in the world. ” 

“ Eichard, Eichard,” a voice was heard calling out, “ step 
here a moment. ” 

It was that of Mrs. Eavensbird, and her husband proceeded 
to the room where she was sitting. She had a candle in her 
hand, and appeared as though she had just been upstairs. 

“I’m afraid, Eichard,” she said, “ I protest I am; the very 
house seems to rock. I shall not go to bed to-night.” 

“ Nonsense!” returned Eichard Eavensbird. “ Folks sleep 
best in windy weather.” 

“If they can get to sleep. It’s what I shan’t try at to- 
night. You just go up to our bedroom, and see what the 
wind is there: the bed itself ’s shaking.” 

“ They are calling for more ale in the tap-room,” cried a 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


131 

very smart maid, entering at this juncture. “ Am I to serve 
it, sir? The clock wants but two minutes of eleven. 

“ Oh, for- goodness sake let them stop on as long as they 
like to-night,'' put in Sophie to her husband. “ Better be in 
danger in company than alone." 

Eichard Eavensbird looked at her in surprise. 

‘‘Danger!" he repeated; “ why, what is the matter with 
you, Sophie? You are surely not turning coward because 
the wind is a little higher than ordinary?" 

“The wind is worse than I have ever known it since I lived 
in the Sailor’s Eest," she responded. “It's awful enough to 
make the bravest think of danger." 

Eavensbird returned to the tap-room, and told the company 
it was eleven o'clock. They did not, however, seem inclined 
to move: and, whether it was the wind howling without, 
which certainly does induce to the enjoyment of comfort 
within, or whether in compliance with his wife's words, Ea- 
vensbird proved less rigid than usual as to closing his house at 
eleven, and suffered more ale to be drawn. The servant was 
bringing it in, when a fresh customer entered. It was Mit- 
chel, the preventive-man. He took off an oil-skin cape he 
wore and sat down. 

“ Why, Mitchel, is it the wind that' has blown you here?" 
were the words Eavensbird greeted him with. “ I thought 
you were ^ on duty to-night." 

“ The wind won't let me stop on duty, Mr. Eavensbird; so 
it may be said to have blown me here," replied Mitchel. “ I 
saw you were not closed through the chinks in the shutters. 
It's an awful night!" 

“ Not much danger of a contraband boat-load stealing up 
to the beach to-night," laughed one of the company. 

“ No, the ‘ Flying Dutchman' himself couldn't bring it 
up," said Mitchel. “ AVhat with the security from that sort 
of danger, and the non-security from another, namely, that 
we might get whirled off the heights into the sea, and be never 
more heard of, the supervisor called us off' duty. What a sight 
the waves are, to be sure!" 

“ The men have not been on duty below all day." 

“Couldn't have stood- it," answered Mitchel, “the sea 
W'ould have washed them away. It's great rubbish to keep 
men there at all now they have put us on to the heights. I'm 
afraid of one thing," he added, lowering his voice. 

“ What's that?" 

“ That there's a ship in distress. My eyesight's uncommon 
good for a distance, as some of you know, iind I feel sure that 


132 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


I made her out, and even her very lights. The worst was, 
the gusts whiffled one’s sight, and steady for one minute one 
couldn’t stand. I pointed the ship out to Baker, when we 
met, but he could see nothing, and thought I was mistaken. ” 

“ But — if it is a ship — why do you assume that she must be 
in distress?” inquired Eavensbird. 

“ Could a ship be off the coast in such a storm as this and 
not be in distress?” was Mitchel’s answer. And the wind 
blowing dead inland! Mark me! if that is a ship, she’ll be on 
the rocks to-night!” 

“ Mitchel,” cried one of the company, “you were always 
one of them given to croaking. And croaking don’t help us 
on in the — ” 

The man’s voice stopped abruptly, and the assembly simul- 
taneously started to their feet. A heavy, booming sound had 
struck upon their ears. Mrs. Eavensbird rushed into the room. 

“ It is a cannon!” cried she. 

If it was a cannon, it was firing off quick and sharp strokes, 
one after the other, as no cannon ever had been known to do 
yet. Some of those startled listeners had heard that sound be- 
fore; some had not. 

“It is the great bell at the Castle!” uttered Mitchel, “ I 
am sure of it. The last time it rang out, was for that fire in 
the stables, before the old lord died. What can be the mat- 
ter?” 

They moved in a body to the house door, and stood in the 
road outside, listening and looking. Though the Sailor’s Eest 
stood alone, somewhat apart from any dwelling, they could 
see that the alarming sound had brought others to their doors, 
and night-capped heads to windows. 

“ The castle must be on fire,” exclaimed one, drowning the 
chorus of voices; “we ought to set off to it.” 

“ I wish you would all be still for an instant,” interposed 
Eavensbird. “Listen; as keenly as the wind and that heavy 
bell will allow you. ” 

They hushed their clamor and bent their ears in nbedience 
to the inj unction. And then they caught what the noise in 
the tap-room had prevented their hearing before, a minute- 
gun fired from the sea. 

“ It is the ship in distress,” eagerly uttered Mitchel, “I 
knew she would be. She’s signaling for help. And the 
castle-bell is giving notice of it; it used to in the old times.” 

Before they decided what to do, or whether to do anything 
— some being for rushing off to the castle, others to the beach 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


133 


— one of the footmen in the Dane livery, white and purple, 
^canie Hying toward them. 

“A large ship in distress he exclaimed. “We think she 
may be an Indiaman, with home-bound passengers. Is the 
sea too bad for help to go out:^^ 

The man spoke in agitation; it is an agitating moment, 
when the lives of our fellow-creatures are at stake within 
sight. That the lives of those now in danger must inevitably 
be lost appeared only too sure. Somebody inquired of the 
•servant what Lord Dane thouirht. 

“ My lord^s not at home,'’^ was the man^s reply. “ Some 
of us fancied we heard signals of distress from sea; and we 
went up to the turret-chamber and there made out the ship, 
and saw quite plainly the flash of her minute-guns, though the 
wind deadened their sound. Mr. BrufI gave orders then for 
the alarm-bell to be rung, to arouse the village, first of all 
sending a messenger to my lord, that he might not fear it was 
anything amiss at the Castle itself.'’^ 

“ Is he far awayr^^ 

“ Who, my lord? He is only spending the evening at Mi\ 
Lester's. 

The company got their caps, which they tied down firmly 
on their heads; those who possessed no caps tied on handker- 
chiefs, for their hats would be useless on the beach, and they 
left them at the Sailor's Best and hastened down. The news 
had spread. The ship, drifting gradually in shore with tlie 
wind, was nearer now, and her guns were louder; and all 
Danesheld was flocking toward the beach. 

They could discern her very plainly in the snatches of bright 
moonlight — a noble ship. One old sailor, who possessed fine 
eyesight, keener than even Mitcliel, professed to make out her 
build, and declared she was an American. Whatever she 
might be, she was certainly drifting on rapidly to her doom. 
She had probably been at anchor, and the chain had broken. 

Her position was a little to their left hand as the people 
stood, and she would most likely strike just beyond the village 
toward Dane Castle. The wind was as a hurricane, howling 
and shrieking, buffeting the spectators, and taking away al- 
most their life's breath; the waves rose mountains high, with 
their hoarse roar; and the good ship cracked and groaned as 
she bent to their fury. 

Oh! the scene on board! — could those watchers from the 
sliore have witnessed it! Awful indeed seemed the jarring 
elements to them; ^what, then, must they have been to those 
who were hopelessly in their j^ower! 


134 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Reader, we may assume that it has never been your fate to . 
be on board one of these ill-fated ships at the moment of its 
doom. No imagination, however vivid, can picture the awful 
bearings of the scene. Bewildering confusion, sickening dis- 
tress, unbounded fear. Almost as terrible is it as that Great 
Day, pictured to us of what shall be the last judgment; for 
that Great Day for them is at hand — time is over — eternity is 
beginning — and all are not prepared to meet it! 

Two gentlemen came together arm-in-arm, and the crowd 
parted to give them place. They were Lord Dane and Mr. 
Lester. Mr.. Lester carried a night-glass, but the wind would 
render it almost useless. 

‘‘Why, she^s nearly close in shore!^^ uttered Lord Dane, 
in an accent of horror. 

“ Another half hour, my lord, and sheTl be upon the 
rocks,^^ responded a bystander. 

“ Mercy! how fast she^s drifting! One can see her drift!^^ 

“ My men,^^ said Mr. Lester, addressing himself more par- 
ticularly to the fishermen and sailors, many of whom had con- 
gregated there, “ can nothing be done?^^ 

One unanimous, subdued sound was heard in answer: 
“No.^^ 

“ If one of ^em, any crack swimmer, could leave the ship, 
and come ashore with a hawser, that^s their only chance,’^ ob- 
served an old man. “Not that I think he’d succeed; the 
waves would swallow him long before he got to it. ” 

“ There’s the life-boat,” cried Lord Dane. 

The crowd shook their heads with a smile. 

“ No life-boat could put ofi in such a sea as this!” 

Never, perhaps, had been witnessed a more hopeless specta- 
cle of prolonged agony. Once, twice, three times, a blue- 
light was burned on board the ship, lighting up more distinct- 
ly than the moon had done her crowd on deck, some of whom 
were standing with outstretched hands. And yet those on 
shore could give no help. Men ran from the beach to the 
heights, and from the heights to the beach, in painful, eager 
excitement; but they could do nothing. 

On she came — on, on, swiftly and surely. The night went 
on; the hurricane raged in its fury; the waves roared and 
tossed in their terrific might; — and the good ship came steadily 
to her doom. In two hours from the time that the castle-bell 
boomed out she struck; and, simultaneously with the striking, 
many souls were washed overboard, and were battling their 
own poor might and strength with the wiater as hopelessly as 
the ship had done. The agonized shrieks of woe were borne 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


135 


over the waters with a shrill, wailing sound, and were echoed 
by the watchers; some of whom — women — f^ll on their knees 
in their nervous excitement, and prayed God to have mercy 
on the spirits of the drowning. 

“ She'll be in pieces! she'll be in pieces! and no earthly aid 
can save her!" was the crv that went up around. 

As it was being uttered, another dashed into the heart of 
the throng — one who appeared not yet to have been among the 
spectators. It was Wilfred Lester. He wore his sporting- 
clothes, as he had done when Maria met him in the evening. 
Pressing through it to the front with scant ceremony, he leaned 
his arms on the rails of the little jetty, and contemplated the 
beating vessel. 

“ Good heavens!" he uttered, after a few moments' stead- 
fast gaze; “ she must have struck!" 

“ This five minutes ago!" 

“ What is that in the water?" he continued, after another 
pause. 

“ Human beings drowning. They are being wshed off the 
ship fast!" 

All that Wilfred Lester possessed of excitement was aroused 
within him. 

“Human beings drowning!" he repeated, his voice harsh 
with emotion. “ And you are not attempting to rescue them! 
Are yoh mad, or only wicked?" 

One by his side pointed to the foaming sea. 

“ Let that answer you. " 

“It is no answer," said Wilfred Lester. “ Where's the 
life-boat?" 

Mr. Lester drew away to hide himself amidst numbers: he 
had not cared lately to come in contact with his son. But 
Lord Dane pressed forward. 

“ You are excited, Lester," he observed to Wilfred; “ and 
I acknowledge the sight is sufficient to excite the most stoical 
man on earth. You might as well talk of a balloon as a life- 
boat; the one could no more get to the ship than the other.' 

“ The effort might be made," returned Wilfred, eagerly. 

“ And the lives of those making it sacrificed," rejoined 
Lord Dane. 

Wilfred turned to where a knot of fishermen were congre- 
gated. He was familiar with them all, and had been from 
boyhood. 

“ Bill Gand, where's the life-boat?" he said, to a weather- 
beaten tar, who looked sixty at the least, to judge by tho 
wrinkles on his face. “ Is she ready?" 


13G 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Bill GaDd pointed with his finger to a small and snug creek 
at some little distance; he was not a man of fluent -words. The 
life-boat was moored in the creek, and could be out at sea 
(wind and weather permitting) in a few minutes. 

“Was made ready when the castle-bell tolled out. Master 
Wilfred,” answered he. 

“ And why have you not put off in her?” demanded Wil- 
fred, in a tone of command. 

“ Couldn’t dare, sir. And the sea be higher now nor it was 
then.” 

“ Couldn’t dare!” scornfully echoed Wilfred Lester, whose 
anger, like that of the waves, seemed to be rising.,. “ I never 
knew a British sailor could be a coward until now; I never 
thought ‘ couldn’t dare ’ was in his vocabulary. I am going 
cut in the life-boat; those of you who can overcome ‘ fear ’ had 
better come with me.” 

He turned to quit the spot and make for the creek, but fifty 
voices assailed him. “ It would be sheer madness to attempt 
it. ” “ Did he mean to throw away his life?” “ He and the 

life-boat would be swamped together!” 

“ Then swamped we will be!” retorted Wilfred. “ Do you 
see there?” he added, waving his hand in the direction of the 
ill-fated ship; “ when your fellow-creatures’ lives are being 
swamped wholesale, when you see them buffeting with the 
pitiless waves, does it become you to hesitate attempting their 
rescue ‘for fear’ yours should be? — and you brave seamen! 
Come on, my men! if there be any of you who deserve the 
name.” 

How contagious is example! How valuable a little sterling 
encouragement! How effective a spice of stinging ridicule! 
Several •“ good men and true,” acted on by the words, de- 
clared themselves ready to man the life-boat; and pretty nearly 
the whole crowd trooped off in the wake of Wilfred Lester. 

He was long of leg and fleet of foot, and was already busy 
with the boat when they gained him. A voice called out that 
if she must go out Mr. Wilfred had best not be one to man her; 
he was no sailor. Wilfred Lester caught the words and turned 
his handsome face toward the sound; very pale looked his 
features in the moonlight — pale, but resolute. 

“ Who said that?” he asked. 

It was old Bill Gand. 

“You are not yourself. Bill Gand, to-night. Would I urge 
others on a danger that I shrink from?” 

“ Venture in that there boat. Master Wilfred, and you 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 137 

wunna reach the ship alive/’ cried Bill, “ let alone come 
back. Nor the rest, nor the boat neither.” 

“It is possible; but I think we may hope for a better re- 
sult. We are embarking in a good cause, and God is over 
us. ” 

The last words told; for, of all men, a sailor has the most 
implicit trust in God’s mercy — a simple, child-like, perfect 
trust — that many who call themselves more religious might 
envy. They were contending now who should man her, num- 
bers being eager; and there appeared some chance of its rising 
to a quarrel. 

“ Tills is my expedition,” said Wilfred Lester; “ but for 
me you would not have attempted it; allow me the privilege, 
therefore, of choosing my men. Bill Gand, will you make one 
of us or not?” 

“ Yes,” answered the old sailor, “ if it’s only to take care 
of you. My wife’s in the church-yard, and my two boys are 
under the waters; I shall be less missed nor some.” 

The twelve were soon named, and they went into the boat. 
Wilfred was about to follow them when some one glided up 
and stood before him. 

“ Will it prove availing if I ask you not to peril your life?” 

The speaker was Mr. Lester. Wilfred hesitated a moment 
before he answered. 

“I could not, for any consideration, abandon the expedi- 
tion; nevertheless I thank you; I thank you heartily if you 
spoke out of interest for my welfare. Father, this may be our 
last meeting: shall we shake hands? If I do perish regret me 
not; for I tell you truly life has lost its value for me.” 

Mr. Lester grasped the offered hand in silence, a more 
bitter pang wringing his heart than many of the bystanders 
would have believed. Wilfred leaped into the boat, and it put 
-off on its stormy voyage, the spectators tearing round to the 
spot whence they could see the sinking ship. 

What a fine picture the scene would have made! could it 
have been represented both to the eye and the ear — not unlike 
those old Dutch paintings of the Flemish school. The doomed 
ship and her unhappy freight of human life soon to be human 
life no longer; the life-boat, launched on her perilous venture, 
making some way in spite of the impeding wind — now riding 
aloft, now engulfed under a huge wave, now battling with the 
furious sea for mastery; the anxious faces of the spectators, 
and their hushed, breathless interest as they watched the prog- 
ress of the boat, or the dim and dreadful spot further on; with 
the bright moonlight lighting up the whole, and the night 


138 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


sky, over which the clouds were racing; while ever and anon 
the faint tinkle of a bell might be heard from the ship, and 
the heavy bell at the Castle still boomed out at intervals! 

Would the boat reach the ship? Those in the boat as well 
as those on shore were asking the question? Bill Gand, the 
oldest of them, declared he had never wrestled with a gale so 
terrific, with waves so furious. The mystery to Bill then — 
and it would remain a mystery to him throughout all his after- 
life — was that they did wrestle with them. Minute by minute 
as they strove to labor on the angry sea beat them back did 
he believe would be their last; that the next must see them in 
eternity: all who were with him believed so, including Wilfred 
Lester. How was it that they did escape? It ap])eared noth- 
ing less than ar miracle — an impossibility effected — and they 
could not account for it unless Wilfred Lester’s words on shore 
could do so. It was a good cause and God was over them. 

But they did not reach the ship. No; too many poor 
wretches were struggling with the waves nearer to them, and 
they picked up what they could — picked up until the boat 
could hold no more. Shouting out a cheering cry of hope to 
the wreck they turned in shore again. 

The going back was less labor, for they had the wind with 
them, but it was not less dangerous. Some of the men — power- 
ful, hardy sailors that they were — felt their strength droop- 
ing; they did not think they could hold out to the shore. Wil- 
fred encouraged them as he had done in going, cheering on 
their spirits, almost renewing their physical strength. But 
for him they would several times have given up the effort in 
despair when they were first beating on for the wreck. 

“ Bear on with a will, my brave lads,” he urged; “don’t 
let the fatigue master you. I and Bill Gand are good for 
another turn yet; but we’ll leave you on shore to recruit force 
and bring others in your stead. You shall join again the third 
time. Cheerily on with a will! I wonder how many times it 
will take to save them all?” 

One of the rescued spoke up to answer. All could not 
speak; for some were lying hurt or senseless in the boat. He 
was an able-bodied seaman. 

“ It would take several times, master; but you’ll never get 
the chance of going to her a third time, if you do a second. 
She was parting amidships. ” 

“ Parting amidships!” 

“ I think so; and so did the captain. She must have struck 
upon a rock, and was grinding and cracking awfully. ” 

“ Whence does she come?” 


LADY ADELAIDE’S .OATIT. 


139 


From New York. A passenger ship. A prosperous voy- 
age we have had all along from starting — and this is the end- 
ing! A fine ship she was, spick and span new, eleven hun- 
dred tons register, her name ‘ The Wind.’ I didn’t like her 
name, for my part, when I joined her.” 

Many passengers?” 

Forty or fifty; about half a dozen of them first-class; the 
rest second. ” 

“ Bid you jump overboard? hoping to swim for your lives?” 

“ No, no; who could swim in such a sea as this? All you 
saw in the sea were washed off. Some had sunk when you 
got to us.” 

Of course the above conversation had only been carried on 
at intervals, as the struggling boat permitted, and now it 
ceased altogether, for every energy had to be devoted to the 
boat if they were to get her to the shore. 

A low heartfelt murmur of applause greeted their ears as 
they reached it; it might have been louder, but for remem- 
brance of what the brave adventurers had yet to do, and the lit- 
tle chance there was of its being done — the very small portion 
these few saved formed of those to be saved. As Wilfred Les- 
ter stepped ashore, his face white with exertion, and the salt 
foam dripping off him, it is possible he looked for a father’s 
hand and a father’s voice to welcome him. If so he was mis- 
taken. Mr. Lester was still there, but did not advance. 
AVhat he might have done alone it is im2)ossible to say, but his 
wife was now with him. Strange to relate. Lady Adelaide had 
ventured, in her curiosity, down to the beach, and stood brav- 
ing the wind, supported between her husband and Lord Dane. 
Perhaps Mr. Lester did not choose to notice Wilfred in the 
presence of his wife, for he knew how much at variance they 
were; or perhaps he already repented of his late greeting. 
W ilf red saw her standing there and turned again to the life- 
boat. 

‘‘ These poor creatures must be conveyed to warm beds and 
warm fires, ” he exclaimed, looking at some of those he had 
helped to rescue, “ or they may soon be no better off than 
they would have been if left in the water.” 

I can receive two or three,” exclaimed Richard Ravens- 
bird, pressing forward. “ I have not been able to do any- 
thing toward saving, but I can toward sheltering.” 

Two vehicles were waiting, having come down to be in 
readiness if wanted; and they were brought into requisition, 
one of them taking its way to the Sailor’s Rest. It contained 
a man who was too exhausted to speak much or to notice any- 


140 


LADT ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


tiling, and a young man who appeared to be in attendance 
upon him — probably a friend. 

“ That we owe our lives to you this night under God there 
is lifctle doubt, the latter cried, grasping Wilfred Lester’s 
hand. The time to thank you, I hope, will come.^^ 

Wilfred began mustering his second crew. Old Bill Gand 
insisted upon being one. 

‘‘ Not you, Dick,’^ cried Wilfred to another; “ I wonT have 
you; you could not stand the labor. 

‘‘ I^m as strong as I was before my illness, sir,^^ pleaded 
Lick. 

“ I will not admit you, I say. Stand back. We have no 
time to lose.” 

Scarcely had the words left Wilfred Lester’s mouth when a 
prolonged, dreadful shriek, only too paljiable to the ear, arose 
from the wreck. It was some minutes before those on shore 
could make out its cause. But, when they did; when they 
discovered what had happened — alas! alas! The rescued 
sailor’s words had been too surely and swiftly verified. The 
vessel had parted amidships, and was settling down in the 
water. 

Oh, for the life-boat now! One more voyage and it may yet 
save a few of those now launched into the water. Before it 
could take a third, the rest will have been launched into eter- 
nity. 

And the life-boat hastened out amidst cheers to force its 
mad way, but it rescued none. The hungry waters had made 
too sure of their prey. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE RESCUED. 

But three passengers had been rescued. The two conveyed 
to the Sailor’s Rest, who had been chief -cabin passengers, and 
a steerage passenger; the rest saved were seamen; not one of 
the officers — all had gone with the ill-fated ship. 

Messengers had been dispatched to Sophie; and when the fly 
got there she had warm beds in readiness, and hot flannels in 
case rubbing should be necessary. One man — it was he who 
had seemed so exhausted — had nothing on but his shirt and 
drawers. A large cloak had been thrown over him as they 
raised him out of the life-boat; and then he spoke a few 
words. 

“ My head. I am cold. Get a shawl for my head.” 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Ill 


Shawls were not plentiful on the beach, for none had been 
brought down, but a large neck-handkerchief was found in 
somebody’s pocket, and the man’s head was enveloped in it. 
He feebly pulled it far over his face as if to shield it from the 
cold. Little could be seen of his features when he got to the 
Sailor’s Rest; but Sophie jumped to the conclusion, by some 
reasoning process of her own, that he was a man of fifty or 
hard upon it. His wet hair hung about his face — nearly white 
hair. He declined all assistance, shut himself into the cham- 
ber prepared, dried himself by the fire, got into bed between 
the warm blankets, and then rang the bell. 

It was for a large basin of hot gruel with a glass of brandy 
in it. 

When the maid took it up to him she said that the young 
man— his fellow-passenger — saved, wished to know if he could 
come in or do anything for him. 

No, was the answer. And the young man had better lose 
no time in getting to bed himself. He might come in in the 
morning; and nobody else was to disturb him till he had been 
in unless he rang. 

Sophie did not go to bed that night; she had said she would 
not, and was glad of the excuse of being busy. One of the 
rescued sailors had by some means got his head much cut; be- 
sides the two cabin passengers he was the only one taken to the 
Sailor’s Rest, the others had found refuge elsewhere; and 
Sophie busied herself in attending to him and in drying the 
younger passenger’s clothes — for he, when saved, had been 
completely dressed. 

About eight in the morning Sophie was in her parlor when 
the passenger mentioned entered, attired in the said dry clothes. 
Sophie turned hastily and thought, in that first moment, that 
she had never seen so prepossessing a man. He appeared 
about four-and-twenty, tall, and of lofty bearing, with clearly 
cut features, dark hair, and a most attractive countenance. 

Are you a clever needle-woman?” asked he, with a very 
winning smile. 

Mrs. Ravensbird, won by the good looks, the courteous man- 
ner, and the pleasant voice, began protesting that she was 
famous — nobody more clever than she. She had been out- 
door pupil in a convent in Prance for seven years — and let the 
Sisters alone for making girls into expert needle-women. Did 
the gentleman want a button sewed on? 

The gentleman smiled again. Had it been only that he 
thought he could have managed the job himself without 


142 LAt>Y ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

troubling lier, iirovicled she had supjilied him with needle and 
cotton. 

No/^ he continued, “ it is something that requires more 
skill. I want a shade made for the eyes.'^ 

Sophie raised her own to the eyes looking at her — clear, 
bright eyes they were, of a dark gray — and she wondered what 
they could want with a shade. 

“ It is for my fellow-passenger,^^ he proceeded to explain. 
“ I have been to his room, and all his cry is for a shade for 
his eyes. He suffered with them during the voyage, I ob- 
served; and the light of the room this morning affects them 
much.^^ 

“ Oh, 141 soon make that,^' said Sophie. ‘‘ Who is he, 
sir?’^ 

‘‘ You must ask himself that question,^ ^ was the reply. A 
large shade, he said, made of thin card-board, covered with 
dark-blue or green silk; any color, in fact, and tapes to tie it 
on with.^^ 

“ Tape!^^ ejaculated Sophie; “ you mean ribbon, sir. 

“ Anything. He will not care what the materials are, j^ro* 
vided his eyes are shaded. I asked him about breakfast, but 
he seemed only anxious for the shade. 

Sophie soon got her necessary materials — a sheet of card- 
board, which she fished up from somewhere, and some purple 
silk, the remnant of a dress — and set to work. The gentleman 
sat liimself on the arm of an old horse-hair sofa opposite and 
watched her fingers. His orders were, he said laughingly, 
not to go up again without the shade. 

“ And so you and he met on board as fellow-passengers!” 
cried Sophie, as she worked. “ Strangers, I suppose, to each 
other until then?^^ 

“ We were on board fellow-passengers.” 

“ It^s strange how intimate people grow upon a sea-voy- 
age!^^ resumed she; “just as if they had been friends for 
years. The old gentleman seems ill. ” 

“Very ill. Very ill indeed; he has been all the voyage. ” 

“ What is his name? what was he coming to England for?” 
proceeded Sophie. “ I suppose he’s an American?” 

“His name — his name?” deliberated the gentleman, as if 
casting back his thoughts. “ I am not sure that I heard his 
name mentioned during the time we were in the ship. As for 
his motive for coming to England, I can not speak. Gentle- 
men travelers do not unceremoniously inquire into each other’s 
private affairs, Mrs. Eavensbird. ” 

“ I hope you will let me have the gratification of knowing 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


1-13 


your name, sir,” continued Sophie, nothing daunted. “I’m 
sure it’s a pleasant one.” 

“ Do you guess so?” laughed he. “I do not discern much 
in it myself. Lydney.” 

“ Lydney!” repeated Sophie after him. “ And are you an 
American, too, sir? And have you come over on business?” 

“ I have come over on pleasure — to look about me — never 
having hail the honor of seeing old England before,” answered 
he, good-humoredly. “ IIow many more questions would you 
like answered, Mrs. Ravensbird?” 

“ Ah, ha! it’s my French nature; and I ask you to excuse 
it. I am not English; you may tell that by my tongue; and 
we (raids are always curious. Do you speak French, Mr. 
Lydney?” 

“ C^uite as well as I do English. My mother was a French- 
woman. ” 

Sojdiie’s eyes sparkled with delight; her heart had warmed 
to hiniiit first, she said; and forthwith she commenced a rat- 
tling conversation in her native tongue, lie sat there till the 
shade was finished, and then went upstairs with it. 

In the course of the morning Lord Dane walked into the 
Sailor’s Rest to inquire after the rescued. Richard Ravens- 
bird was not in the way at the moment; but Sophie was quite 
equal to receiving his lordship. In earlier days, when ho was 
plain and poor Herbert Dane, she had been rather fond of 
chattering to him, or he was to her; and her manners to him 
still retained far more of ease than did those of some of the 
inhabitants of Danesheld. Sophie began pouring into his ear 
all the news she had been able to collect as regarded the two 
passengers, coupled with her own additions; for she was one 
of those who form conclusions according to their active im- 
agination and then assume them to be facts. 

They were both Americans from the United States, she said; 
the old gentleman traveling over hero for his health — espe- 
cially for a weakness in the eyes — and the young one for 
2)leasure. They had first met on board and got friendly 
together. The old gentleman’s name she had not come at 
yet; but the young one’s was Lydney. Such a pleasant young 
man ! — spoke French like an angel — and as rattling and free 
as my lord himself used to be in the by-gone days. And Ma- 
dame Sophie cast a half -saucy glance to my lord when she 
said it. 

“ Are they gentlemen?” inquired Lord Dane, “ or people 
in business — merchants and that sort of thing?” 

“ The young one’s a gentleman if ever I saw one,” returned 


144 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Mrs. Eavensbird, warmly. In looks and manners he is fit, 
every inch of him, to be what you are, my lord — a British 
nobleman. There’s no mistaking him for anything inferior.; 
And, do you know, his face puts me in mind of somebody; 
but for the life of me I can’t tell who. As to the other — the 
old man — I don’t know whether he’s a gentleman or not; I 
have seen little of him except his shoulders and his purple 
shade — the one I made him — for there he lies, buried in his 
l^illow and the bed-clothes, his face to the wall, and his back 
uj); and all you can discern of him — barring the shade — is his 
white hair. When we go in with a tray of refreshment he 
tells us to put it on the table by the bed, and helps himself 
when we are gone. ’ ’ 

“ The younger one is up, I suppose?” remarked Lord 
Dane. 

“ Oh, up hours ago, my lord; up and out. He seems in a 
fine way about some box being lost that was on board, and is 
going toward the wreck to hear if there’s any chance o^ things 
being got up. Does your lordship think there is?” 

“ A few things may be, perhaps; I can not tell. I wish to 
send a message to this old gentleman, if you will convey it to 
him,” continued his lordship. ‘‘ Say that I, Lord Dane, shall 
be happy to render him any assistance; and if he would like 
me to pay him a visit I can do so now.” 

Sophie ran upstairs to the invalid’s chamber, and came back 
again shaking her head. 

“ I’ll lay any money he’s a cross-grained old bachelor,” 
cried she; “ he speaks up so sharply. He answered me quite 
rudely, my lord. ‘ My service to Lord Dane; but tell him I 
am a private individual, seeking only repose, and am not de- 
sirous of forming acquaintance, even with his lordshij).’ You 
might speak it more civilly, I thought to myself as I took it 
from him. ” 

“ Oh, very well,” said Lord Dane. “When these disas- 
trous circumstances occur, it is due from my position to show 
courtesy to the sufferers; but if it be refused, of course the 
obligation is at an end. It is the last time I shall trouble your 
old gentleman, Mrs. Eavensbird. ” 

The wind was less violent this morning, and many people 
were gathered on the heights watching the spot where the 
wreck had been. At low-water part of the ship could be seen ; 
and she lay with her larboard side to the rocks. Quantities of 
chips were floating about, and pieces of iron might be dis- 
cerned on the beach. The masts and yards were gone; and 
there was no symptom of a bowsprit. Something more ap- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


145 


palling than wood or iron floated in occasionally — a liuman 
body; not near enough, however, to terrify away the watchers 
on the heights, some of whom were ladies. 

Standing most imprudently on the very edge of the heights, 
in their eager sympathy, tlieir sad curiosity, were Miss Bordil- 
lion and Maria Lester. The latter, who was a little apart, 
bent forward to look at some bustle right underneath, when a 
gust of wind more furious than any they had experienced that 
morning suddenly swept over them — swept over Maria — 
and — 

“ Take care, Maria!" shrieked out Miss Bordillion in an 
agony of terror. 

Whether Maria could have “ taken care," must remain an 
unanswered question. Certain it is that the wind shook her; 
and she had all but lost her balance when, at the very moment 
of peril, just as Miss Bordillion called out, a strong arm was 
thrown round her and snatched her into safety. She had felt 
her own danger; and her face was perfectly white as she 
turned it to her preserver. 

She saw a stranger. A young aristocratic man, who had 
“ gentleman " stamped on every motion and lineament. 

‘‘ I thank you very greatly," she said to him from between 
her agitated lips. “I did not know the wind was still so 
high." 

Miss Bordillion, in her gratitude, laid hold of the stranger's 
hand. 

‘‘ Let me thank you! let me thank you! I do believe you 
have saved her from destruction! Ah, Maria! you may well 
weep!" she added, as Maria, overcome by the fear and agina- 
tion of the moment, let fall a few hysterical tears. “ How 
could you be so imprudent? how could you advance so near? 
Thank him better, child, for there's no doubt he has saved 
you from death!" 

‘‘ Not from death so certain as I was saved from last 
night," he smiled, hoping to reassure Miss Lester. ‘‘ I was a 
passenger in that ill-fated ship," he said, in answer to the 
inquiring looks of Miss BordilHon, “ and was one of those res- 
cued by the life-boat. " 

‘‘ Is it possible?" 

“ But for a gentleman who took command of that life-boat 
and shamed the sailors — as I hear— into manning her, sharing 
himself the danger, we should all have perished," he pro- 
ceeded. ‘‘ He was but a stripling, no older than myself ; but he 
showed a braver heart that the inured-to-danger sailors." 


146 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


Maria’s face was glowiog as a damask rose, and tlie tears 
rested on the eyelashes. 

“ Shall I tell yon who that was?” she said. It was my 
dear brother, Wilfred Lester.” 

And in a few minutes it seemed as though they had been 
conversing together for years. There are certain events that 
break the barriers of restraint more effectually than time can 
do. 

‘‘ AVe must not part without hearing your name,” said Miss 
Bordillion. 

‘‘ William Lydney.” 

“ And I am Miss Bordillion. And this is my address,” she 
added, giving him a card; for she, like many other old-fash- 
ioned ladies, kept her card-case in her pocket. ‘‘ I hojie, Mr. 
L3Tlney, that you will call upon us.” 

“ That I will be sure to do,” he answered, a gratified ex- 
pression lighting his countenance. And he lifted his hat as 
Miss Bordillion and Maria moved away. 

The chamber in which the invalid lay at the Sailor’s Rest 
was a commodious room, the bed at the further end of it, op- 
posite the door, and the fire-place in the middle, between the 
two. It was very comfortably furnished; a sofa, a center- 
table and side-tables, besides the requisite furniture for a sleep- 
ing-room, but its space afforded good accommodation. On 
this same evening at dusk, Mr. Ravensbird himself was in the 
chamber attending the fire when the sick gentleman suddenly 
addressed him: 

“ What sort of a neighborhood is this?” 

Mr. Ravensbird probably wondered in what light he was in- 
tended to take the question — whether as to its natural, its 
social, its political features, or any others. But he did not in- 
quire. 

“ It’s a dull neighborhood rather,” said he. “ Except when 
it gets enlivened by any such event as that last night, or by a 
poaching or smuggling affray. Lord Dane’s having aban- 
doned it for several years did not tend to make it gayer.” 

‘‘ He is ^'our great man of the locality, I conclude, this Lord 
Dane?” 

‘‘ Oh, yes, sir. The Danes have been the lords of Danesheld 
from times unheard of. And plenty of state they have kept 
up. But to have the Castle closed or as good as closed has 
been like a blight upon the place.” 

“ The present Lord Dane has been absent from it?” ques- 
tioned the invalid. 

‘‘ He went abroad almost as soon as he came with the title 


LADY Adelaide’s OAm 


U7 


—-within two or three months of it — and has not long returned. 
Eight or nine years he must have been away. ” 

Is he married?” 

“ Eo, sir. His sister is with him at the Castle at present — 
Miss Dane. And will stop, people surmise, unless his lordship 
should give it another mistress.” 

Perhaps you’ll inform me what you are talking of,” cried 
the invalid from the bed. “ Lord Daiie has no sister. ” 

“ Yes, he has, sir. And she is with him, as I tell you, at 
the Castle.” 

“ Then I tell you he has not a sister,” was the sick man’s 
irritJdble answer, but delwered in a subdued, quiet tone as the 
rest of his conversation had been, as though the voice stuck 
in the throat. Some years ago I was in this part of the 
world and knew all the Danes. The present lord I knew very 
well: there was no sister then.” 

Eichard Eavensbird thought it as well to drop the contention 
and suffer the stranger to have his own way, for he did not 
appear one likely to relinquish it. He stretched his head up 
to get a sight of the sick man’s face, but did not succeed: the 
upper part was under the purple shade, and the lower j)art 
under the bed-clothes. 

“ Yes, I knew a good bit of the Danes then,” went on the 
invalid. My lord and my lady, the two sons, the cousin — 
in short, all of them. Has the younger one, William Henry, 
ever been heard of?” 

“ How do you mean, sir?” quickly cried Eavensbird, who 
began to doubt whether the stranger was cognizant that he, 
Eichard Eavensbird, had been suspected of and charged with 
the murder — a point upon which he was sensitive. ‘^Ile was 
heard of so far as that his body was found, and was buried in 
the family vault.” 

“ How did they recognize it?” 

“ By certain marks,” replied Eavensbird. “ I recognized 
it myself. I was Captain Dane’s servant. ” 

It was a nasty pitch-over, that fall from the heights,” 
soliloquized the stranger: ‘‘it took place wliile I was in 
Danesheld— ” 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, you are never Colonel Moncton?” 
breathlessly uttered Eavensbird. 

“ What if I am?” coolly asked the stranger. 

Eavensbird paused. He did not know “ what,” but felt in 
much doubt and surprise. Convinced, moreover, also that, 
whoever it might be, whether Colonel Moncton or another, his 
own suspected share in the affair was known. He therefore 


148 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


set himself to speak of it calmly and openly, as he always did, 
to those aware of the struggle; otherwise he preferred to main- 
tain a complete reticence on all points relating to that night. 

“ Yes, it was a fatal fall, a nasty struggle/^ Eavensbird 
observed : ‘ ‘ and who the adversary was, remains a mystery 
to this day. Two or three were suspected. I, for one, and 
was taken up on suspicion; and a packman for another, who 
was seen in angry contest with the captain on the heights that 
same night: but I, in my own mind, suspected somebody 
else. 

“ Pray whom did you suspect?^ ^ ^ 

“ I should be sorry to tell,^^ answered Eavensbird. ^ 

“ What were the grounds for suspecting you?'’^ inquired the 
invalid, after a pause. 

“ That quarrel I had with Captain Pane — which I suppose 
you heard of, if you heard of the rest. It occurred in the 
morning, when he kicked me out of the Castle, and the catas- 
trophe took place in the evening. People^s suspicions — and 
naturally enough, I acknowledge — flew to me. But they were 
wrong. I would have saved my master^s life with my own : I 
would almost bring him back to life now at the sacrifice of my 
own, were it in my power. I was much attached to him, and 
I am faithful to his memory. 

“ In spite of the kicking-out?^^ put in the stranger. 

“ Pshaw returned Eavensbird. “A dispute of a mo- 
ment, in which we both lost our tempers, could not destroy 
the friendship of years. Yes, sir, I presume to say it — friend- 
ship. He was the Honorable Captain Dane, and I but liis 
servant; and though he never lost his dignity any more than I 
forgot my place, there was a feeling between us that might be 
called friendship. 

There ensued a long silence. The gentleman broke it. 

“ What has become of Herbert Dane? He was to have 
married Lady Adelaide Errol. There was some — some — some 
talk of such a thing, I fancy. 

“ He did not marry her. Ah! that was another mystery. 
She would not have him, after all; and she married Mr. Les- 
ter. She has a whole troop of children now. 

“ And where is Herbert Dane? What has become of him?^^ 

Eavensbird turned round to the bed in astonishment. 

“ He is at the Castle now, sir; I have just said so.^^ 

“ He at the Castle! What for?^" 

“ The Castle is his home, sir,^^ replied Eavensbird, begin- 
ning to wonder whether the sick man was in his right mind. 

“ Whose home? I am speaking of Herbert Dane. What 


LADY ADELAIDE/ S OATH. 


149 


sliould bring the Castle his home? Does Lord Dane tolerate 
him there? 

“ AVhy, sir, is it possible you do not know that Herbert 
Dane — that was — is the present Lord Dane?’^ uttered Havens- 
bird. “ He succeeded the old lord. 

The stranger raised himself on his elbow, and peered at 
Kavensbird under the purple shade. 

“ Then what on earth has become of Geoffry — the eldest 
son? Where was he — that Herbert' Dane should inherit?” 

“ He died at the same time as his brother, answered Hav- 
ensbird, shaking his head. “ Before the body of my master 
was found, tlie remains of the other were brought home, and 
interred in the family vault. ” 

“Where did he die? What did he die of?^^ reiterated the 
invfilid, who appeared unable to overcome his shock of aston- 
ishment. 

“ He died of fever, sir. I canT take upon myself just to 
say where, for I forget; but he was put on board at Civita 
Vecchia. My lady went almost as quick; and the old lord did 
not live above a month or two.” 

“ I know; I know,” cried the stranger, with feverish im- 
patience, “ I saw their deaths announced in the newspapers; 
and I saw the succession of the new peer, ‘ Geolfry, Lord 
Dane. ^ Hot of Herbert. ” 

“ His name is Herbert Geolfry, sir. As soon as he became 
heir, he was no longer called Herbert, but Geolfry. It is a 
favorite name with the Lords Dane.^^ 

The invalid laid down and covered his face. Kavensbird 
was about to leave the room, when he spoke again. 

“ This, Herbert — Lord Dane, as you tell me he is — is he 
liked?” 

“ He has not given much opportunity to be liked or dis- 
liked, sir, stopping away so long,” was the rejoinder of Kav- 
ensbii’d. “ He behaved generously in the matter of my lord’s 
will. The will left presents and legacies to servants, and fif- 
teen thousand pounds to Lady Adelaide Errol, but my lord 
died before he signed it; consequently it was void. The young 
lord, however, "fulfilled all the bequests to the very letter, as 
honorably as though he had been legally bound to do so.” 

“ Why did he not marry Lady Adelaide?” sharply put in 
the invalid. 

“ She turned round, sir, as I tell you, and would not have 
him. It was exactly like a sudden freak, a change of mind 
-that nobody could account for. My present wife was maid to 


150 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


her at that time, and I heard of her refusal: but it was not 
generally known that there was anything»hetween them. ” 

“ Perhaps there never was anything between them,” re- 
marked the invalid. 

Oh, 3^es, there was, sir; when he was plain Herbert 
Dane,” significantly replied Ravensbird. Ah! he little 
thought then to be what he is now — the Lord of Danesheld ! ” 
The stranger turned his face to the wall, and put up his 
back; and nothhig could be seen of him but his white hair, 
and the purple shade. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE JAPAHKED BOX. 

The days went on, and the divers were busy, striving to 
fish up articles from the wreck. The coast presented an un- 
usually stirring appearance, so many idlers flocking constantly 
to the scene — the preventive-men being in charge, so that no 
dejiredations could take place. As the divers’ exertions, how- 
ever, appeared likely to meet with but poor reward, the idle 
spectators got tired of thronging to the spot, and the operators 
and coast-guard were left comparatively in peace. 

One visitor they constantly had, and that was the young 
stranger, Mr. Lydney. He expressed himself as being most 
anxious to recover a certain box, describing it as one of mid- 
dling size — a tin one, japanned. Wilfred Lester, between 
whom and Mr. Lydney an intimacy was springing up, laughed 
at him one day, and rallied him on his disquiet. 

“ One would think all your worldly wealth was entombed 
in that chest, Lydney,” he observed. 

‘‘ And it is — in a measure,” was the answer, ‘‘ for it con- 
tains valuable deeds and documents without which my world- 
ly wealth will be of little value to me.” 

“ Suppose it is gone forever?” returned Wilfred. “ Would 
the loss be totally irremediable?” 

“Upon my word, I can not say,” replied Mr. Lydney. 
“ Some of its documents might be replaced, but others — I 
would rather not dwell on that possibility: I am of a hopeful 
nature.” 

And he appeared, in this instance, not to be of a hopeful 
nature in vain. One morning, a fortnight after the night of 
the wreck, ]\L’. Lydney found, upon going down, that the 
divers had brought up several things. They were of various 
and opposite kinds, as you may well imagine. A part of a 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


151 


beam of wood; a gold Albert chain; a small cask which con- 
tained salt meat; a sealed case, holding letters; and there 
were divers boxes. Once, they thought they were hauling up 
a poor little baby, but it proved to be a huge wax doll, dressed 
in lace and satins; its young mistress was colder and more life- 
less now than the doll. 

With an eager step, when he saw the recovered things, did 
William Lydney hasten to inspect them. Owners had been 
found for none; not for one of those articles lying on the 
beach. The owners had gone with the wax doll’s little mis- 
tress, and would awaken no more in this world. 

“ Is it among ’em, sir?” asked Mitchel, the preventive- 
man, coming up as Mr. Lydney stood over the boxes; for his 
anxiety to recover the chest was no secret. “ There’s one tin 
case, you see, sir, but I fear it’s larger than you describe yours 
to be.” 

William Lydney lifted his head, and his face expressed 
keen disappointment. 

“ It is not among them,” was all he said. 

“ What’s this?” rejoined Mitchel, turning round to speak 
as he was walking away, for he perceived that something else 
was coming up to be added to the relics. 

It was a japanned box, about two feet square, with the 
initials “ V.V. V.” surmounted by a Maltese cross studded on 
it in brass nails. Mitchel scarcely need have asked what it 
was had he glanced at the countenance of Mr. Lydney: the 
eager, trembling expectation, the intense joy that lighted it 
up, proved it was the much-wished-for chest. In the mo- 
ment’s excitement he took it, he alone, from the grasp of the 
men who bore it. William Lydney was a strong man, but not 
strong enough to lift that heavy case in ordinary moments. 

“It’s the one ye’ve been looking out for, ain’t it, master?” 
asked one of the bearers, as it was deposited on the beach. 

“ Yes, it is,” replied Mr. Lydney. “I will reward you 
and the divers well.” 

“ But them letters don’t stand for your name, sir,” cried 
Mitchel, as the men moved away again. 

“ I have not said they did,” laughed Mr. Lydney. “ But 
now, to get it up to the Sailor’s Rest. I’ll leave you guard 
over it, Mitchel, while I go and find somebody with a truck or 
barrow; or get Ravensbird to send. Mark you, my good 
man, it’s very precious.” 

“I’ll take charge of it, sir,” smiled Mitchel; “it’s all in 
my duty and my day’s work. Where you leave it, there you’ll 
find it, untouched. ” 


152 


LAi:>Y Adelaide’s oath. 


'^"ou spoke there without your host, Mr. Prcveutive Mitchel. 

Hardly had Mr. Lydney quitted the beach when Lord Dane 
api>eared on it. He was in sporting attire; but underneath 
his black velvet coat, linen shone out of the finest and most 
costly texture. His keeper — not the one who was wounded — • 
had gone to the preserves with the guns and dogs, and Lord 
Dane had been following him, when a rumor met him that 
the divers were now beginning to find. His lordshi]) turned 
oil his way for a short visit to the beach. There stood Mitchel, 
keeping watch over the things, in pursuance of his promise to 
Mr. Lydney — and also in pursuance of his duty. 

‘‘ Is this all they have got up?” uttered his lordship to 
Mitchel, in a tone of surprise. “ I thought it must have been 
half the shipfull. Young Shad came grinning up to me, and 
said the beach was covered. ” 

“ A light-fingered young monkey!” apostrophized Mitchel. 
‘‘ I drove him oft' from here, for it would require a man v/ith 
ten eyes to watch him. No, my lord, they have not got up 
much, and I don’t expect they will; though they have been 
more fortunate the last few hours than they have been all 
along. That box has turned up at last, my lord, that the 
young gent has been so worried after.” 

“ What young gent?” asked his lordship. 

“ That fine young man who was saved in the life-boat, and 
is stopping at the Sailor’s Best,” replied Mitchel. “ How 
anxious he have come here, day^ after day, a- watching and 
waiting, all for this japanned box! Had it been crammed full 
of thousand-pound bank-notes he couldn’t have been more 
eager. That’s it, my lord, behind you.” 

Lord Dane was standing with his back to the box, and 
turned round at the words. What could he find in it to at- 
tract his notice? Something, apparently; for he remained 
gazing down at it. Like one transfixed stood he: and when 
he did rouse himself and hft his head, it was only to walk 
round the box, survey it on alb sides, touch it, shake it, and, 
in short, look like a child does at a new toy, as if he would 
very much enjoy the pulling it to pieces to see what was in it. 

“ Who do you say tiiis belongs to?” cried he, presently to 
Mitchel. 

“ That young American, my lord, who was brought ashore 
in the life-boat. Your lordship must have seen liim many 
times: a fine, handsome man he is, pleasant to speak to. I 
mean Mr. Lydney.” 

“ Is it his chest?” 

It can’t well be anybody else’s,” returned Mitchel, “ as 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


153 


your lordship would say, if you had seen his anxiety over it. 
When it came up this morning it was just as if he had found 
a treasure: all a-tremble he was with delight.” 

“ Lydney — Lydneyr” repeated his lordship to himself, as if 
oblivious of the presence of Mitchel. ‘‘ Lydney? Have I 
heard that name ever? It does not strike upon my memory. 
Neither does it answer to— to — ” 

Lord Dane stopped ; he was looking down at the initials on 
the box, and Mitchel spoke up, possibly believing he discov- 
ered the drift of the peer’s thoughts. 

“ The letters don’t stand for his own name, my lord, as I 
remarked to him. just now; and he answered me, merrily like, 
that he had not said they did. He is gone to send down some 
men to remove it to the Sailor’s Rest.” 

Lord Dane stepped to the rest of the things and glanced 
keenly at all. “Does any of this belong to him?” he ques- 
tioned of Mitchel. 

“ Nothing else, my lord; nothing but that japanned box 
that seems so precious to him. He has not appeared to care 
at all about any other part of his luggage being found, though 
he says he had a good bit on board. ” 

Lord Dane walked away without saying more, and Mitchel 
remained in charge. Presently, somewhat to the surprise of 
the latter, his lordship reappeared, followed by an empty cart 
and two men. The cart belonged to a miller on the Dane 
estate, and was on its way to fetch wheat to be ground. Lord 
Dane encountered it as he turned off the beach into the road, 
and commanded it into his own service, for what purpose you 
will see. 

Down came the cart, its two attendants, and his lordship, 
and halted close to Mitchel and the recovered things. Lord 
Dane pointed to them with his finger. “ Hoist them in,” said 
he. 

The men did so, to the wondering surprise of Mitchel, and 
made short work of the process. None of the articles were 
heavy, save the japanned box. That went in with the rest; 
but the barrel of pork and the beam of wood his lordship told 
them they might leave on the beach. Then the cart and its 
contents proceeded to move away again. 

“ My lord,” uttered Mitchel, in a perfect ecstasy of conster- 
nation, “ they must not take off the things, especially that tin 
chest. I am left here to see that nobody does do it. ” 

“ I have ordered them to the Castle for safety,” replied 
Lord Dane. 

“ But that tin case, my lord — its owner is coming down for 


154 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


it directly. And I passed my word that he should find it here 
safe and untouched. If he complains to the supervisor I may 
lose my place, your lordship.” 

‘‘ Lose your place for yielding the authority vested in you to 
mine!” returned Lord Dane, in a good-humored tone, which 
seemed to chaff at Mitchel’s simplicity. “ We don’t know yet 
to whom these things may belong, and they will be in safety 
at the Castle.” 

“ But — I hope your lordship will pardon me for speaking 
— this tin box has got its owner,” persisted Mitchel. “ W'hen 
the gentleman returns for it, what am I to say to him?” 

“ Mitchel,” said his lordship, quietly, “ you must under- 
stand one thing which you do not yet appear to be aware of. 
As lord of the manor, I possess a right to claim all and every- 
thing fished up from that wreck, whether the original owners 
be saved or not. I do not wish to exert this privilege; I should 
not think of doing so; but I do choose that these things shall, 
for the present, be placed in the Castle, that they may be in 
safety. You may say that to Mr. Lydney.” 

Lord Dane strode off after the cart, and Mitchel remained 
where he was, as still as though he had been changed to a 
petrifaction. The procedure did not meet his approbation; 
and, in defiance of Lord Dane’s assurance, he feared he might 
get into trouble over it. He neither spoke nor moved, but 
just remained staring and thinking. Neither did he when, 
some time after, Mr. Lydney appeared. Eavensbird came 
with him, and a man with a truck. 

“ Wliy, where’s the box?” exclaimed Mr. Lydney, gazing 
round. “ Mitchel, what have you done with the box?” 

I don’t know,” replied Mitchel, speaking helplessly. “ I 
liave not done anything with it. Lord Dane came down, and 
sent it away, and the other things also.” 

“ Sent it where?” asked Mr. Lydney. 

“ Up to the Castle, sir. He was lord of 'the manor, and 
possessed a right to claim what was got up from the wreck, he 
said. Not that he should think of claiming them, but they 
must be put in the Castle for safety till the owners turned iq) 
— which, of course, they are never likely to do: but perhaps 
he meant their friends.” 

“ The owners of that japanned box had turned up,” cried 
Mr. Lydney. “ His lordship had no business to interfere, so 
much as to put his finger upon it. How could you think of 
allowing it, Mitchel. You are to blame. ” 

If you were not a stranger here, sir, you would never ask 
how we can think of allowing sway to Lord Dane,” was the 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


155 


reply of the preventive-man to Mr. Lydney. “ He is master 
of everything; of Danesheld and the people in it. I had no 
more power to keep your box back, when Lord Dane said it 
was to go, than I have to stop that sea from flowing. 

“ Nonsense,^' said Mr. Lydney, who appeared much pro- 
voked. ‘‘ Lord Dane can not be allowed to play the martinet 
over all the world. 

“ Well, sir, I assure you it was no fault of mine. But if 
you go to the Castle, of course he will give the box up to you; 
it can^t be of no use to him.” 

Bavensbird looked round at Mr. Lydney. “ I don^t think 
youfll get it, sir,” he said. “ At any rate you must go cau- 
tiously to work. ” 

With a haughty toss of the head and contemptuous curl of 
the lip, not directed at Bavensbird — but ill or underhand do- 
ing always excited the scorn of William Lydney — he proceeded 
immediately to the Castle, the man and the truck following in 
his wake. Not Bavensbird; it was rare, indeed, that he 
troubled the Castle. He rang a sounding peal on the bell, 
just as Mr. Bruff, who was quitting the house, opened the 
gate. 

I wish to see Lord Dane,” said Mr. Lydney. And Bruff 
thought that no man had ever appeared at that Castle, yet, 
possessing more of the bearing and tones of a chieftain. He 
bowed low. 

“ His lordship is out, sir.-’^ 

“ I was informed his lordship had just returned in charge 
of some property got up from the wreck. 

Bruff looked curiously at the visitor. Who could he be, 
presuming to speak in those scornful tones, palpably directed 
toward Lord Dane and his doings? Bruff did not resent it, 
but he felt convinced that the gentleman before him was a 
gentleman, and an honorable man. 

“ My lord did return here, sir, with the men who brought 
up the things. But he has gone out since. 

“ Amongst those things was a box, which I claim,” pro- 
ceeded Mr. Lydney. “I must request you to deliver it to 
me.” 

It is not in my power, sir. I dare not meddle with any- 
thing against the orders of Lord Dane. ^ ^ 

‘‘ I say that I claim it,” quietly returned Mr. Lydney, “ and 
I must have it given up to me.^^ 

“ I am sure, sir, when you remember that I am Lord 
Dane^s servant, you will see how impossible it is that I can 
meddle with anything contrary to his lordship^’s orders. ” 


156 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“ The things are in the Castle?” 

“ Certainly they are, sir. His lordship had them put in the 
strong-room, that they might be in safety: he gave me the 
key, and charged me not to let them be touched : the death- 
room we used to call it; but the name, not being an agreeable 
one, has been changed.” 

“ Do you know that you may do me an irreparable injury — 
an injury that can never be removed — by refusing to deliver 
up that property?” pursued Mr. Lydney. 

“ I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; and, if it depended on 
my will, you should have it this instant; but this is a matter 
of duty to my lord, which I, receiving his wages and living 
under his roof, must not violate.” 

Mr. Lydney silently acquiesced in the good faith of the rea- 
soning, and perceived how useless it would be to argue the 
point further. 

“ Is there any one who holds authority at the Castle to 
whom I can apply?” he inquired. 

“ Miss Dane is at the Castle, sir: my lord’s sister; but as to 
authority — you can see her, if you please, sir.” 

The visitor motioned with his hand in reply, and Bruff led 
the way to the drawing-rooms. 

“ What name, sir?” he asked, pausing with his hand on the 
door. 

“ Mr. Willi ani Lydney.” 

Miss Dane rose at his entrance. She was older than her 
brother; in fact, in her forty-second year; but she assumed 
the dress and the manners of a girl of twenty. She had small 
and rather pretty features, a delicate confplexion, and a soft 
rose-color on her cheeks — altogether looking very much more 
youthful than she really was. Her dark-brown hair, begin- 
ning to be sprinkled with silver, was worn, as carelessly as a 
child’s, in a profusion of long ringlets all round her head; and 
her blue eyes had a habit of shyly sinking from the gaze of 
other eyes, especially those of gentlemen. Putting her vanity 
and her affectation aside, Miss Dane was not to be disliked. 

IShe was simple and kind-hearted — not overburdened with 
strong intellect; and the most marked peculiarity about her 
was that she fancied every stranger fell in love with her at . 
first sight. Danesheld called her an old maid: Miss Dane 
would have been mortally offended had she heard them. She 
was attired in a light-blue silk, and jacket to match, jointly 
set off with many trimmings and silver buttons. 

‘‘ I have the honor of speaking to Miss Dane?” began Mr. ? 
Lydney. ^ 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. ' 157 

Miss Dane courtesied and simpered, and simpered and cour- 
tesied again. 

“ What an attractive man!” quoth she to herself; and 
forthwith fell right in love with him, and fondly hoped that 
he was returning the compliment. Mr. Lydnay, however, was 
too much engrossed by his tin box and its abstraction to admit 
softer impressions just then, even though he had been as sus- 
ceptible as the lady. He gave her a concise history of the 
alfair, and inquired whether she would not give orders that his 
box should be restored to him. 

“ I never heard of such a procedure,” cried she, in a pretty 
little weak voice, and shaking her ringlets affectedly. 
“ Geoff ry — my brother — went down to the beach, and or- 
dered the recovered things up here, you say.^ What did he do 
it for? what did he want with them?” 

“ That is precisely what I should be glad to know. Miss 
Dane.” 

‘‘ I don’t think they can have come here, dear sir; I fancy 
there must be some error. Allow me to ring for Bruff. ” 

She tripped to the bell before Mr. Lydney could forestall 
her; and Bruff — who for some reason best known to liimself, 
had delayed the errand he was departing upon when Mr. 
Lydney appeared at the castle-gate — came in answer to the 
summons. 

“Bruff,” asked Miss Dane, “have any boxes and things 
been brought here this morning, belonging to that wrecked 
ship?” 

“Yes, miss,” answered Bruff. For Miss Dane, though 
living at the Castle as its mistress, never would submit to be 
addressed as “ ma’am. ” In her opinion it would have taken 
from her appearance of youth; and woe be to the servant who 
transgressed, for he fell under her stern displeasure: at least, 
as stern as simple Miss Dane could show. 

“ Is this gentleman’s box here, then?” she proceeded. 

“ I can’t say that, miss; I did not remark particularly what 
came. It was all put in the strong-room. If the box was in 
the cart with the other things, it’s here. ” 

“ It is of the very utmost consequence that I should have 
it. Miss Dane,” struck in Mr. Lydney. “ Lord Dane would 
surely not object to its being returned to me, were he at 
home. ” 

“ Of course not, sir,” warmly acquiesced Miss Dane. 

“ Bruff, you can not do wrong by giving iq) to this gentleman 
his own property.” 

My lord’s orders were that the things should not be 


158 ].ADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

touched, under any j)i’etense whatever, miss,^^ remonstrated 
Bruff. 

“ Yes, I can understand that; when there were no claimants 
for them, he naturally would cause them to remain in secur- 
ity. But this gentleman claims his box and requires it: so 
you must give it to him.^^ 

“ Not upon my own responsibility, miss,^^ returned the 
butler. “ If you order me to do so, that of course alters the 
case. 

“ Bear me, Brulf, how tiresome and precise you are!'’’ 
ejaculated Miss Dane, with her childish simper. “ It stands 
to reason that his lordship, in taking possession of the prop- 
erty, could only have had regard to the interest of the owners; 
therefore I can not do wrong in desiring that what. belongs to 
this gentleman should be given up to him.” 

Mr. Lydney rose. “ It is a japanned box,” he said to Brulf, 
“ with initials and a cross on the lid in gilt; you can not mis- 
take it. But I may as well go with you, and point it out. ” 

Bruff seemed to hesitate still, and at length turned to Miss 
Dane. 

Miss,” he said, “ you know what my lord is, if he is dis- 
obeyed. Now I really dare not do this of my own accord — 
though I’m sure I ask pardon for saying so, in the face of 
your orders. Perhaps, miss, you would not mind coming t6 
the strong-room, and delivering up the box yourself, as it 
were. ” 

Miss Dane did not mind it at all: she rather liked the expe- 
dition, especially when the handsome young stranger gallantly 
offered his arm as an escort. Down-stairs they went, through 
the passages to the strong-room, she mincing and chattering 
by his side. Brulf produced the key, and unlocked the door. 

When the reader first saw that room it had trestles stand- 
ing in its middle, bearing something cold and heavy. Now the 
trestles had disappeared, and in the same place, thrown in a 
hasty heap on the floor, were the relics fished up by the di- 
vers. Mr. Lydney released Miss Dane, and stood an instant, 
his eye rapidly scanning them one by one. A look of angry 
perplexity rose to his face. 

“ My box is not here,” he exclaimed, with sternness. 

It was a contretemps that neither Miss Dane nor Brufi had 
expected — perhaps the latter felt rather relieved than other- 
wise. Certainly no japanned chest was amongst the articles. 
Mr. Lydney turned to Brulf. 

“ Where has it been put tor” he inquired, his quiet tone 
carrying more command with it than many a louder one. 


LADY Adelaide’s oatu. 


159 


‘‘If it is not here, sir,’’’ promptly replied Braff, “ it was 
not brought to the Castle. The things were, removed from 
the cart straight to this room, and I can be upon my word 
that nobody has been near them since. 

“ It was brought to the Castle safe enough,’^ returned Mr. 
Lydney. “ If you saw the things taken out of the cart, you 
must remember it.'’^ 

“A japanned box, you say, sir,^^ cogitated Bruff, casting 
his thoughts back. “ I can not be certain that I did see it; I 
took no particular notice what the things were, though I can 
attest that they were all placed in this room.” 

“ Then it has been removed since,” replied Mr. Lydney. 

Bruff shook his head. “ I can equally attest, sir, and in 
the most positive manner, that that could not be. The key 
has not been out of my possession.” 

Mr. Lydney felt sure that the box had been removed, and 
he began casting round his eyes for hiding-places. They fell 
upon the door of a closet, and he pulled it open, for the key 
was in. A dark closet, with nothing in it but some trestles, 
which leaned against the wall. There were no signs of the 
box. 

“ It is like magic,” observed Miss Dane. “ If the box was 
positively brought up in the cart, as you affirm, dear sir, the 
cart must have taken it away again; that’s the only solution 
I can come to. My brother, hearing it was yours, may have 
sent it to your lodgings.” 

But this hypothesis was destroyed by Bruff, who declared 
iihat when the cart drove away from the gate it W'as perfectly 
emj^ty. Mr. Lydney appeared to be thrown up. He inquired 
at what hour he could see Lord Dane. 

“ He would probably not bo home before the dinner-hour,” 
Bruff rejoined — “ six o’clock. His lordshiji dined at six when 
in the country.” 

“ But, my dear sir,” interrupted Miss Dane, as Lydney was 
wishing her good-morning, “ ir the box has been so long in 
the water its contents must be saturated and useless. You 
may be disturbing yourself for nothing. ” 

“ I expect the contents are intact,” was the reply. “ The 
box contains another, which is hermetically sealed, and is im- 
pervious to fire and water. I have the honor, madame, for 
the present, to wish you good-day. ” 

Outside the Castle, Mr. Lydney paused to consider what he 
should do in tjae emergency. He came to the determination 
to seek out the men belonging to the cart, and proceeded to 
the bea'ch to inquire of Mitchel who they were. Mitchel gave 


160 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


the necessary information, adding (when he heard the box was 
missing), that it did go away in the cart. And Mr. Lydney 
found the men. 

But it afforded him very little service. They were a couple 
of dull, stupid clod- hoppers, of that species of rustic whom we 
are apt to marvel at — to question almost whether they can be 
human beings. They had just sufficient brains to get 
through their day^s work at the miller^s, and that was all. 

“ A tin box, japanned, wi^ gilt marks outside onT?" They 
didnT know; my lord telled "’em to pick up the things what 
laid on the shingle and take ^em to the Castle, and they did 
so. There couldnT be no box missing out of ^em, HwarnT 
likely. 

“ But I tell you that it is missing, said Mr. Lydney; 
“ and, as to your not recollecting it, if you lifted it into the 
cart, and then removed it from the cart to Lord Lane^s 
strong-room, you must have observed it. It was a peculiar- 
looking box.'’^ 

The men scratched their heads. They moved the things 
for sartain themselves, but they didnT mark one thing more 
nor another — 

“Was the box taken from the cart between the beach and 
the Castle?'^ impatiently interrupted Mr. Lydney. 

The two fellows stared, evidently considering it a foolish 
question. Not it, they answered. They had drove right from 
the beach to the Castle, the one walking by the cart, toother 
behind it; where should they- be likely to leave a box, when my 
lord had oidered ^em to the Castle? By token, my lord his^ 
self was near ^em, and must have kept the cart in sight, and 
could say whether they had stopped or not. 

“ And you left all the things at the Castle?^^ 

They left ^em all, and come away with the empty cart to 
fetch their sacks o^ wheat. 

And nothing more satisfactory than this could Mr. Lydney 
get out of them, though he believed they were too stolid to 
tell anything but the truth. 


CHAPTER XVL 

THE SEARCH. 

Mr. Britef entertained an idea that there was no policy 
like that of taking the bull by the horns. Accordingly he quit- 
ted the Castle, and contrived to cross that portion of the Dane 
preserves where he deemed it most likely Lord Dane would be. 


LADY ADELAIDP/S OATH. 


IGl 


Upon seeing liirn, lie went boldly up and told his tale of the 
occurrences of the morning, deprecatingly dwelling upon the 
• fact that the room had been opened by Miss Dane^s orders, 
against his own will. 

Lord Dane was sitting on the stump of a tree, solacing him- 
self with a sandwich and something good from a flask. Bruff 
stood humbly before him, expecting little less than that his 
head would be snapped off. Few peers visited disobedience of 
orders more sharply than he of Dane. 

“Asa general rule, Bruff, you know that what I say is law, 
and may not be violated with impunity, cried his lordship, 
with his mouth full. “ In this instance the matter was not 
momentous; but I shall speak to Miss Dane, who appears to 
have been more in fault than you. Did you give the young 
man his box?'^ 

“ The box was not there, my lord; leastways the one he said 
he was looking after, replied the amazed and relieved Bruff. 
“ A tin box, japanned, with gilt initials outside, he described 
it to be; there was nothing answering to the descrip tion^ your 
lordship. 

“ Then what brought the fellow intruding after it?” cried 
his lordship, testily. “ That’s just what I expected it would 
be — that every man, woman, and child, who might have ever 
so remote an interest in the ship would be poking themselves 
up to view the relics; and therefore I ordered you to keep 
them closed. Let them go down with the divers and hunt 
there. ” 

“ The young gentleman says the box was found and brought 
to the Castle, my lord,” returned Bruff', believing Lord Dane 
was taking a wrong view of the facts. “ But, as I told him, 
if the box came with the other things, there it would now be, 
with them. ” 

“ Kubbish!” returned Lord Dane. “The box could not 
vanish through the floor. Perhaps you overlooked it, Bruff. ” 

Mr. Bruff thought not; and subjoined the information that 
the young gentleman had announced his intention of calling 
at the Castle, to see Lord Dane upon the point. 

“ He is welcome,” said his lordship. 

Mr. Lydney so timed his visit as to see Lord Dane just be- 
fore his dinner-hour. He was received with politeness. 

“ My butler has been telling me some rigmarole story about 
a box vanishing out of the strong-room,” began his lordship, 
in a free, frank tone. “ But the thing is impossible; if the 
box was placed in the strong-room, it must be in it still.” 

“ The box was certainly put in the cart to be brought to 


162 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


the Castle — to that Mitchel can testify/’ returned Mr. Lyd- 
ney, in a tone as free as his lordship’s, though somewhat more 
haughty. “ The question is, where was it put after it reached 
the Castle?” 

“ Did Mitchel take notice of the box?” 

“ Yes,” emphatically replied Mr. Lydney. “ And Mitchel 
says that your lordship also took notice of it, and remarked 
that the initials on it were not those of my name. ” 

“Is it that box which is missing? the one with the three 
gilt V’s upon it?” exclaimed Lord Dane. “ Oh, that was • 
certainly placed in the cart; I saw the men put it in. ” 

“May I inquire why your lordship should have meddled 
with the box at all — ” 

“ 1 had the things brought up for security,” interrupted 
Lord Dane. 

“ But I had claimed that particular box, and had left it in 
Mitchel’s care, while I went for the means to remove it,” said 
Mr. Lydney. “ It appears to me that it could not be any 
concern of your lordship’s. As to safety — Mitchel, I say, was 
in charge.” 

“ Were you accustomed to see much of wrecks, which I do 
not suppose you are, you would know how next to impossible 
it is for any preventive-men to stop the pilfering of the ma- 
rauders that infest the coast,” rejoined Lord Dane. “ It was 
my duty, as lord of the manor, to take care that the things re- 
covered remained intact. You are at liberty to claim your 
property, and remove it from the Castle. ” 

“ But where is my property?” asked Mr. Lydney. “ Your 
servant showed me the things brought here from the beach, all 
the things, he said, and it was not with them. ” 

“ Sir, to reiterate such an assertion makes me quite 
angry,” tartly rejoined Lord Dane. “ A box locked up safely 
in a strong-room could not vanish from it; it must be there 
still.” 

Lord Dane rang the bell for the key of the strong-room as 
he spoke, and Bruff brought it to him. He and Mr. Lydney 
then proceeded thither. 

“Your lordship must perceive that the box is here,” 
said Mr. Lydney, pointing to the things as they lay on the 
floor. 

Lord Dane glanced at them with a keen and curious eye; 
and when he found beyond doubt that the box really was 
missing, he appeared on Ihe point of losing his temper. “ It 
is most strange, most singular!” he uttered; and, striding to 
the door, shouted out for Brulf. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 163 

The man came in hasty answer to the summons, and Lord 
Dane abruptly addressed him: 

“ Whom have you dared admit to this room? Somebody 
must have entered and removed the box.” 

“I declare to goodness, my lord, that not a soul has entered 
it,” cried the unhappy Bruff, “ saving this gentleman and 
Miss Dane. The key never was out of my personal custody.” 
And Lydney felt convinced that the man was speaking the 
truth. 

“ The box must have been conveyed to some other room 
when brought to the Castle, not to this one at all,” he ob- 
served, but Lord Dane interrupted him. 

“ I give you my honor, sir, as a peer of England, that the 
things brought in the cart were placed in this room, and in 
this room only. The men had no opportunity of entering any 
other, and did not enter one.” 

“ I can bear my lord out in that,” interposed Brulf, turn- 
ing his honest face upon the stranger. “ The things were 
brought straight to this room through the outer passage, not 
the inner one; had the men wished to go into another room 
they could not. Besides, I was with them all the time, and 
my lord also was looking on. I’m sure it’s like magic.” 

“I can surmise how it is,” said Lord Dane; the men 
must have omitted to remove the box from the cart.” 

‘‘No,” said Mr. Lydney. “I have questioned the men, 
and am satisfied that it was brought into the Castle.” 

“ My lord,” put in the butlen “ I watched the cart go 
away from the gates, and it was qime empty. ” 

“ It is inexplicable,” exclaimed Lord Dane. “ But I 
hope,” he added, turning to Mr. Lydney, with a frank smile, 
“ that it will soon be explained, and the box found, for you 
appear to set store by it. ” 

“ It shall be found if there be law or justice in England,” 
warmly spoke the young man. 

“ Nay,” said Lord Dane, “ you would seem to cast blame 
to me; but that is not just.” 

“ My lord,” returned Mr. Lydney, “ it is against my nature 
to act, or suspect, in an underhand manner, and therefore I 
candidly avow my opinion that your lordship has custody of 
the box. Had it been lying on the beach unclaimed, as the 
other things were, and you had ordered it to the Castle, I could 
have understood it; but that you should do so in the face of 
Mitchel’s assurance that it was mine, and that I was then 
bringing assistance to remove it, does appear to me to be a 


164 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


procedure fraught with doubt. I can only believe that your 
lordship did so to obtain possession of the box.” 

“ Whyl what do you suppose I wanted with the box?” ut- 
tered Lord Dane. 

“lam unable to say.” 

“You are smarting under this loss, young sir, which I con- 
fess is a vexatious one, and therefore I excuse your language,” 
equably returned Lord Dane. “ I will even condescend to 
point out how totally absurd your suspicions are. That the 
things were all brought to this room I have testified to you; 
my servants have done the same, and you can also question 
the miller’s men. Now this room is some distance removed 
from any other room in the Castle, and I ask you how it 
would be possible for me to carry a heavy box, which most 
likely I could not even lift, through the passages to them? You 
may be capable of deeming that my servants helped me, or 
carried it by my orders; but I give you hearty leave to ques- 
tion them all. No, Mr. Lydney; 1 will swear to you that not 
a thing went out of this room door again after it was brought 
in at it; I locked the door upon the things immediately, and 
handed the key to Bruff. Since then it lies with him. ” 

Bruff looked up deprecatingly, but did not again defend 
himself. That there was point in what Lord Dane advanced 
Mr. Lydney could but acknowledge, and perhaps he began to 
doubt whether his suspicions were correct. He returned with 
Lord Dane to the reception-room, for he had left his gloves 
there, and then took his leave. Standing at another door, as 
he passed through the corridor, was Miss Dane, apparently 
calling to her little pet dog; in point of fact, watching for the 
departure of the handsome stranger. Her ringlets were more 
elaborate, now they were arranged for dinner, and were orna- 
mented with sundry bows of sky-blue ribbon; her white dress, 
made after a girlish fashion, was also decorated with blue. 
She gave a little start, as of surprise, when Mr. Lydney ap- 
proached, and put down her arms like a timid child. 

“ You here again? How nice! Oh, I hope you have found 
your box. ” 

“It can not be found,” was the answer. “ It appears to 
have vanished in some unaccountable manner from Lord 
Dane’s strong-room.” 

“ Vanished as the ghosts do,” simpered the lady. 

“ Not exactly. The days of ghosts are over. Miss Dane.” 

He quitted her to depart. As she watched his receding 
figure, Lord Dane came up whistling, his hands in his pockets, 

“ What are you looking after, Cecilia?” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 1G5 

‘‘ That handsome young man," avowed Miss Dane. “ I 
never saw one so good-looking before.-" # 

‘‘ H — m," returned Lord Dane, in a tone of dissent. Not 
a bad figure, though." 

Geolfry, who does he put you in mind of?" 

“ Not any one," answered Lord Dane, resuming his whist- 
ling. 

‘ • Ah, you never can see likenesses as I do. He is exceed- 
ingly like old Lady Dane." 

Lord Dane stared at his sister, and then laughed slighting- 
ly. ‘‘You take queer fancies in your head, Cecilia. That 
man is no more like Lady Dane than he is like you or me. I 
should be sorry if he were." 

“ AV'hy?" 

“ Because a suspicion is drawing over my mind that he is 
not what he assumes to be — that he is not a good character; 
an adventurer, in short, who is bent on nefarious purposes." 

Miss Dane gave vent to a scream of genuine mortification. 
If her brother said so she feared it must be the fact, for she 
knew how clear-sighted Lord Dane was. 

Brulf, meanwhile, was showing out the same — gentleman, 
or adventurer, or whatever he might be. They stood for an 
instant to converse beyond the gate. 

“ I hope, sir, you will not attribute this loss to any fault or 
carelessness of mine," spoke Brulf. 

“ No, I domot," was the ready answer. “ But, you must 
admit that it is strange in the extreme." 

“ I can't make it out ifi any way, sir; turn it about as I 
will, there's no opening for a probability to creep in at." 

“ Lord. Dane delivered the key to you immediately?" 

“ That he did, sir. When the men had carried in the 
things I went to the door with them, and saw them drive off 
with the empty cart. Then I turned back along the passage 
to the room, and there stood my lord waiting for me. He 
locked the door fast in my sight, gave me the key, and ordered 
me to keep it locked, and to allow no one to enter. Then he 
went out, and returned but just now. Now, sir, even allow- 
ing that my lord had an inclination to remove that box else- 
where, as you seemed to suspect, he could not by any possi- 
bility have had the time, either to do it .himself, or to get it 
done; and my own moral persuasion is, that the box never did 
come into the Castle. Halloo! you young eavesdropper! what 
do you do here?" 

The latter words were addressed to Mr. Shad, who was 
standing in close proximity. Mr. Lydney turned hastily, and 


166 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


thought he had never seen so strange-looking a boy. The 
butler pointed his finger in authoritative warning, and the 
lad shuffled off. 

“ Had the box been of light weight, I might have thought 
that young reptile had pilfered it from the cart,” observed 
Eruft', to Mr. Lydney. “ He must have stolen after when the 
cart came up here from the beach, for I saw him hovering 
close by when the men were taking the things from it. A box 
of that weight, of course, he could not take. ” 

Mr. Lydney strode away, overtook Shad, and laid his hand 
upon his shoulder. ‘‘ What is your name?” asked he. 

“ Please, sir, it’s Shad.” 

“ Shad — what?” 

“I doesn’t know.” 

“ The divers recovered some things this morning from the 
wreck, and a cart took them up to Dane Castle. You fol- 
lowed, I believe, Mr. Shad. Did you see the cart unloaded?” 

“ I didn’t finger nothing,” was the response of the boy. 

“ That is not what I ask you. Gan you speak truth?” pro- 
ceeded Mr. Lydney, doubting whether much truth could 
come from a mortal possessing a countenance like the one he 
gazed on. 

Shad only grinned. 

‘‘ You see this sixpence,” said Mr. Lydney, taking one from 
his pocket. “ I am going to ask you a question or two; an- 
swer me with strict truth, and it shall, be yours. Equivocate 
only by a word, and instead of the sixpence, you shall get 
something not so pleasant.” 

“ I know what you’d ask me,” burst forth the boy, forget- 
ting his usual r 61 e of ‘ simpleton, ’ in the eager fascination the 
sixpence bore for him; it’s about your lost box, that a row’s 
being made over, him with the three letters on it. I see it 
took into the Castle.” 

“ You did?” 

‘‘ I see it with these two eyes o’ mine,” avowed Shad, lift- 
ing his sly orbs, sparkling now, to the face of Mr. Lydney. 

“ It was a’ most the last thing left in the cart; the two mil- 
lers carried of it in, and Mr. Bruff went a’ ter ’em up the 
passage.” 

“ Where was Lord Dane then?” 

“ I didn’t see him. I think he was agone into the Castle 
afore.” 

“ You saw the cart drive away, no doubt; was it quite 
empty?” 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 167 

‘^Yes; there warn’t nothing left in her. Master, I’m 
telled the truth, and now, please, for the sixpence.” 

“ Should I find later that you have not told the truth, it 
shall go hard with you,” said Mr. Lydney, dropping the six- 
pence into his hand. “ But if you could only learn. Shad, how 
much easier it is to speak truth than the contrary, what a 
vast amount of trouble it saves, you would never say another 
false word again.” 

Shad’s only reply was to amble off, his arms flinging them- 
selves about in wild delight at the possession of the sixpence. 

It was somewhere about this hour, or a little later, for the 
shades of night were gathering on the earth, that Miss Lester 
and her brother were walking through the wood-path already 
mentioned. Once more Maria had transgressed home orders, 
and had been to see Edith, for the accounts she heard of her 
state of health grew more dark day by day. The visit paid, 
she was now returning home, Wilfred escorting her through 
the wood. In more open parts, Maria, would scarcely have 
dared to be seen with him, fearing it might get reported at 
home, and that unpleasantness would be the consequence. 
They had walked at first in silence, but Maria’s thoughts were 
gradually winding themselves up to a pitch of excitement, and 
she suddenly broke it, clasping her hands, as she turned to her 
brother. 

“ Oh, Wilfred! is there nothing that you can do? Try 
anything. Look out for a situation; no matter what, so that 
you can but earn a trifle. Throw pride to the winds.” 

“ Pride! Gad, I don’t think much of that stops by me, 
Maria,” was his reply. “ What would you suggest that I 
should do? I know of nothing. I can not go and open a 
general shop in Danesheld, wanting funds; I can not engage 
myself as keeper to Lord Lane; I don’t suppose I should get 
hired if I offered myself as footman to my father, to replace 
the one I hear is leaving. ” 

‘‘ How can you thus turn what I say into ridicule? and 
Edith in the state she is!” rejoined Maria, with displeasure in 
her voice, but tears in her eyes. 

“ Not ridicule, Maria,” he quietly replied. “ These sub- 
ordinate situations being closed to me are a proof how much 
more closed better ones would be. It was in that light I 
spoke.” 

“ But you are wrong. You draw a wrong deduction,” she 
argued. These mean sort of situations for making money 
are of course closed to you; but there are others, suitable to 
a gentleman.” 


168 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


“ I don’t know how a gentleman, entirely devoid of means, 
could put himself in the way of obtaining such. Maria, it is 
of no use to finesse longer, and to play at pride and propriety. 
You see these clothes?” pointing to the velveteen suit he wore. 
“ They are all I possess. ” 

“ Where are your others?” she uttered, breathlessly; 
“ your better suits?” ^ 

‘‘ Pledged. Pledged for food. I may have to put in this 
coat also, for some pressing necessity, and to go about, aston- 
ishing Danesheld, in shirt-sleeves. It is not very likely that 1 
could take any situation appropriate to a gentleman.” 

The crimson had fiushed into Maria’s face; it seemed that 
she was at a loss for words. They were drawing near to the 
wood, and Wilfred stopped. 

“ I shall not go any further, Maria. But, before we part, 
I wish you would tell me whether there’s truth, or not, in a 
report I have heard. Kumor runs that you are to marry 
Lord Dane. ” 

Maria turned away her head, and remained silent. 

“ I see,” said Wilfred, “ it is so. Think well what you are 
about, Maria; remember he was once the choice lover of Lady 
i^delaide; and she his. That is, if tradition tells true.” 

“ Do not allow yourself to repeat such stories,” remon- 
strated Maria. “ Lady Adelaide is papa’s wife. And dis- 
abuse your mind upon another point, Wilfred; I do not wish 
to marry Lord Dane.” 

‘‘Oh! Is the wish, the liking, all on his side?” 

“It is not on 'mine. I do not dislike Lord Dane, but I 
shall never like him well enough to marry him. There is 
only one thing — ” 

At this moment an interruption occurred. It had pleased 
Mr. Lydney, buried in deep thoughts, to take a circuitous path 
from the Castle to the Sailor’s Pest, which path led him 
through the wood. He had scarcely entered it when his eye 
caught sight of young Mr. Shad, twined, something like a 
snake, round the thin trunk of a tree, and evidently in the 
act of listening. At the same moment, his ear caught the 
sound of yoices. He went gently forward, laid his grasp upon 
the gentleman, and drew him out before the astonished gaze 
of Wilfred and Miss Lester. 

Young Shad whined out — 

“ What had he done? It was hard a poor little fellow 
couldn’t be watching an ant’s nest but he must be pounced 
upon and took up, as if he was a bird or a rabbit. ” 

“ I hope you were saying nothing that all the world may 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 169 

not hear,” said Mr. Lydiiey, addressing them, “for this boy 
was certainly listening.” 

“ No, I wasn’t;” sniffed Shad, trying to squeeze out a tear. 
“ I never heard nothing. I was looking at the ant’s nest.” 

“ You young dog, you’ll come in for my stick some of 
these days,” cried Wilfred Lester, shaking his cane menac- 
ingly at him. “ You are always up to your tricks. I don’t 
believe there’s an ant’s nest there. No, there is not,” he 
added, goin^ to the spot, and examining. “ Now, what do 
you deserve:” 

“ I never said as there was,” wailed the incorrigible Shad. 
“ I said as I was a-looking for him. Granny al’ays tells me 
to look out for the ants’ nests. ” 

Finding himself at liberty, he scampered away at the 
utmost 'speed of his legs; but only to double back again when 
he was beyond sight and hearing. Dodging stealthily amidst 
the thick trees, he got as near to the spot as he dared, his 
ears all awake. Finding himself balked, for by that time the 
three were dispersing, he solaced his inquisitive mind by dodg- 
ing the further movements of Mr. Wilfred Lester. 

“ As shrewd a young spirit as ever crossed my path, that 
Master Shad,” exclairned Mr. Lydney. “ One to be guarded 
against, unless I am mistaken. Who is he? He told me he 
did not know his name. ” 

“ I don’t think he does know it, or anybody else in this 
neighborhood, except the old woman he calls granny,” replied 
Mr. Wilfred Lester. “ Shad’s parentage remains amidst the 
things untold. He is a sly young imp of mischief.’^ 

“He has an evil physiognomy, and a cunning one,” re- 
turned Mr. Lydney. “ Bad qualities, both; doublyNbad when 
they go together.” 

“ The gossips are engrossed with the tale of the loss of your 
property, the box brought to light by the divers,” resumed 
Wilfred. “ Is it found?” 

“ No! It is the most extraordinary, the most unaccount- 
able — however, I will say no more till I call in the aid of the 
police,” Mr. Lydney broke off. “ Is Lord Dane a man of 
veracity?” he added, abruptly. 

“I know nothing to the contrary,” replied Wilfred Lester. 
“I can not say that he is a favorite of mine; we all have our 
likes and dislikes; but — a man of veracity? Yes, I should 
deem him to be that. But I must leave you, for I have an 
appointment, and shall be late for it. Good-night. Lydney, 
just see my sister the few steps to the end of the wood.” 


170 


liADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


He Sped off unceremoniously, and Mr. Lyduey turned to 
walk by the side of Miss Lester. 

“ Were the contents of tliis lost box of very much conse- 
quence?” she inquired. 

“ Of the very utmost consequence,” he answered. 
“ Strictly speaking, neither the box nor the contents belonged 
to me, but they were in my charge; and I would rather give 
every shilling I possess in the world than lose them.” 

“ Are you going to make a long stay in Danesheld?” 

‘‘ 1 can not tell how long it will be. Hitherto I have been 
hoping for the box, which this morning brought up. !N’ow 
it is gone again, and I am no more forward than before.” 

“ Its disappearance certainly appears to savor of the 
marvelous,” observed Maria. ‘‘But, rely upon it, it never 
was placed in the death-room.” 

“ In the what room?” echoed Mr. Lydney. Maria smiled 
at his surprise. 

“ They call it the strong-room now: but until the return of 
Lord Dane from abroad it was known as’ the death-room, 
being the apartment where the Danes^ after death, lie in state. 
Except in Lord Dane’s presence, most people call it the death- 
room still. ” 

“ I fancy — now you speak of it — that Lord Dane’s butler 
called it the death-room to-day; but it nearly escaped my no- 
tice,” observed Mr. Lydney. 

He conducted Maria to the door of the Hall, and then 
wished her good-evening. From some cause they had dined 
earlier than usual that day, and Maria supposed that tea would 
be waiting. It was not, however, and she proceeded to the 
study of her father, where he sat alone. Mr. Lester was 
reading a newspaper; Maria waited till he looked up. 

“ Papa,” she said, untying her bonnet-strings, “ there has 
been an understood embargo, more implied than expressed to 
me, that I should not go to Wilfred’s house. ” 

“ Of course,” replied Mr. Lester; “ it could not be per- 
mitted.” 

“ I have come to tell you that I have transgressed it, and 
have been there, twice. The first time my going was, if I may 
so express it, involuntary; the second, this evening, I went in 
deliberation. It W()uld not be right if I kept it from you, 
papa. ” 

“ And what took you there?” angrily demanded Mr. Lester, 
after surveying Maria for some moments in silence. 

“ I went to see Edith. Papa, I think she is dying.” 

Mr. Lester made no reply — only let fall the glasses that 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 171 

rested across his nose. Their gold chain went down with a 
chink. 

“ And she is dying of hunger/’ Maria continued, catching 
up her breath with a sobbing sigh. Dying of hunger, 
papa.” 

Don’t talk absurdly,” reproved Mr. Lester. 

“ Papa, it is so. She can not eat the coarse food they can 
alone procure, and she is sinking for want of the delicacies 
necessary for her condition. Miss Bordillion has helped them 
till she has little left for herself. Oh, papa, my heart feels as 
if it would burst.” 

“ Why do you tell me this?” 

“I could not be disobedient without telling you. Dear 
papa, will you not assist them? Just a little, to get Edith a 
few things until she is stronger.” 

“I will not,” affirmed Mr. Lester, in a deliberate tone. 
“ Your brother and his wife have brought this upon them- 
selves, and they must abide by it. You can not go near them 
again.” 

‘‘ Papa, I pray you do not impose that command upon me,” 
she implored in agitation. “ I am not sure — dear papa, par- 
don my saying so — but I am not sure that I could strictly 
obey it. He is my brother; he is deserted of all. I fear it 
may be my duty to stand by him, even though you bade me 
not. Do not bar all intercourse; I will promise very rarely to 
go; never, unless- occasion should seem to require; and if you 
like, when that shall happen, I will tell you that I have been. 
Our mother is dead; you have other ties; but Wilfred and I 
are alone.” 

No reply made Mr. Lester. Maria waited, but none came; 
and she turned and quitted the room with a slow step. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A THOUSAND POUNDS REWARD. 

Had Miss Lester quitted her father’s study with a hasty step 
instead of a slow one, she would probably have run over Tiffle; 
for that damsel had had her ear glued to the door throughout 
the greater portion of the interview. Tiffle proceeded to Lady 
Adelaide’s dressing-room, closed the door with a mysterious 
air, and turned up the whites of her eyes. 

“Such treason and plots as is being hatched, my lady; that 
of Guy Fox’s was nothing in comparison. There’s Miss Les- 
ter been shut up with master till this blessed minute, a plead- 


172 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


ing for them two married ones, and declaring that she has 
been to see ’em, and is going again.” 

Impossible,” returned Lady Adelaide; “ Miss Lester 
would not disobey expressed^commands. ” 

“ She has disobeyed ’em, my lady. And she has been a- 
making up a tale to her pa, that them two are famishing, and 
ought to be helped. My lady, if you don’t mind, master will 
take ’em into favor again, and allow ’em a income — to the 
wrongs of the dear little cherybums at home, your ladyship’s 
own. I — I — I’d let ’em famish, if it was me,” emphatically 
added Tiffle. 

“They deserve nothing better,” said Lady Adelaide. 

‘ Does he go out at night still?” 

“ Oh, don’t he?” replied Tiffle. “ Last night as ever was, 
he and that Drake, and young Beecher was on my lord’s 
grounds,” she continued, sinking her voice. “ Let it go on a 
bit, my lady; he’ll be dropped upon.” 

“ Where do you get your information, Tiffle?” demanded 
Lady Adelaide. 

“ My lady, I do get it, and it’s for the good of the family 
I’m proud to serve. If I pay all my wages away in bribes, I 
don’t regret it, so long as I can render service to your lady- 
ship, and the precious little ones. But to say precisely how, 
when, and where I do get the information, is beyond me, and 
your ladyship must ixcuse my saying so. Let them two once 
get the upper hand of master, and they’d be for turning us 
out of house and home. ” 

Before more was said, a loud knock, as of a visitor, was 
heard at the Hall door. Tiffle — who seemed to make- it her 
business to watch everybody’s business in the house as keenly 
as a cat watches a mouse— left the room with a spring, and 
planted herself where she could see down into the hall. The 
visitor admitted, she came back. 

“ Is it Lord Dane?” inquired Lady Adelaide. 

“ Hot at all, my lady. It’s that young man that is lodging 
at the Sailor’s Rest; that Mr. Lydney who was hooked up in 
the life-boat. I saw Miss Lester walking with him just now, 
so she has invited him to tea, no doubt.” 

“ Saw Miss Lester walking with him! invited him to tea?” 
reiterated Lady Adelaide. “ What are you saying, Tiffle?” 

“ Oh, my lady, they have growed to be upon quite close 
terms of friendship,” carelessly replied Tiffle. “Miss Les- 
ter is forever meeting of him at Miss Bordillion’s, where he 
have got intimate.” 

Mr. Lydney, however, had not come “ to tea,” or to visit 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATS. 


173 


Miss Lester. His business was with Mr. Lester, and into his 
study was he shown. Hot many- minutes had he quitted 
Maria when it occurred to him that Mr. Lester, in his magis- 
terial capacity, might be of service to him. Mr. Lester re- 
ceived him cordially; a speaking acquaintanceship had grown 
up between them since the night of the wreck, and he liked 
young Lydney much. Miss Bordillion had also informed him 
of the service he had rendered Maria. “ Saved her life,^^ 
Miss Bordillion expressed it; but Mr. Lester laughed at that. 

“ I must ask you to pardon my calling upon you at this 
unseasonable hour — unseasonable for business, began Mr. 
Lydney, as he took the chair placed for him. “ You are, I 
believe, in the commission of peace for the county?^' 

“ I am,^^ replied Mr. Lester. 

“ Then will you allow me to request you to grant a warrant 
to search Dane Castle?^' 

Had Mr. Lester been applied to for a warrant to search his 
own house inside and out he could not have evinced more 
surprise. 

“ Search Dane Castle?’^ he echoed. 

“ You probably have heard, Mr. Lester, the details of the 
loss of my box this day; for Danesheld is a small place, famous 
for tale-bearing; and a transaction taking place at one end 
of it at ten in the morning, would be known at the other by 
ten minutes past — 

“ That is so,^^ interrupted Mr Lester with a laugh. And 
I believe I am as cognizant of the circumstances attending the 
loss of the box as you can be.^^ 

' “ Then, Mr. Lester, I will go on. That box, rely upon it, 
is in Dane Castle; and I must have it found. 

“ What grounds can you possibly entertain for coming to 
that conclusion?^'’ slowly uttered Mr. Lester. “ Lord Dane 
can have no motive for detaining or concealing the box: he 
would only be too glad to hand it over to you — you being the 
owner. 

“ I draw my deductions from facts,^^ returned the young 
man. “ What right — nay, I will say what motive — had Lord 
Dane to interfere with my box at all? Mitchel told him it 
was mine, and that I was about to remove it.-’^ 

‘‘ I do not myself see any necessity there was for his doing 
so,-” reflectively replied Mr. Lester. “ As to his motive, it 
must have been zeal^ — over-zeal that no harm should come to 
the things — ^your box among them. Were I to conjecture, I 
should say the box fell from thejgart, unseen, on its way to the 
Castle/^ 


174 


LADY ADLLAIBL’S OATH. 


“ I think that would scarcely be your conjecture did you 
know how heavy the box was, Mr. Lester. It could not well 
fall unseen or unheard; and one of the men walked behind 
the cart. Besides, it was seen to be carried into the Castle.'’^ 

Mr. Lester pricked up his ears. The last bit of informa- 
tion was new to him. 

“ By whom.^’^ he eagerly asked. “ I understood it had not 
been observed whether it was positively taken in, or not. 

A somewhat noted young gentleman of your vicinity, Shad 
by name, saw it go in — 

Mr. Lester interrupted with a burst of laughter; and it was 
some moments before he recovered himself, so entirely did the 
avowal excite his mirth. 

Excuse me, Mr. Lydney, but the remark proved how great 
a stranger you ai’e to our village politics and to Shad. AVhy, 
he is the falsest boy you can conceive; he tells more lies in an 
hour than another lad would in a lifetime. I doubt if he ever 
spoke a word of truth yet, knowing it to be truth. 

“ I agree with you in all that/^ replied Mr. Lydney, who 
had sat perfectly composed until the laugh was over; “ from 
my limited observation of the boy I should judge him to be an 
exceedingly bad boy, an habitual and systematic deceiver. 
Nevertheless, I avow to you my belief that in this one instance 
he has told me truth. Lepend upon it, he can telLtruth, if it 
suits his purposes of self-interest. He said the two men carried 
the box into the Castle, it being nearly the last thing taken 
out of the cart, and that Lord Dane^s butler followed them 
in. I repeat to you, Mr. Lester, my conviction that this ac- 
count was in accordance with fact.-’^ 

Can you suspect any of the servants of having cribbed 
it?’^ hastily asked Mr. Lester. “ Bruff is as honest as the 
day — a most respectable man — was butler to the old Lord 
Dane.'’^ 

“No: I can not suspect the servants; by what I hear, they 
never went near the box.^^ And this was an unlucky admis- 
sion of Mr. Lydney’ s, for it took away all semblance of a plea 
for the grant of the search-warrant; that is, according to the 
opinions or the prejudices held by Mr. Lester. 

“ Who do you suspect?” he inquired of his guest, fixing his 
eyes searchingly upon him. 

“ It is a question, Mr. Lester, that I can not answer you. 
I believe the box to be in the Castle, concealed by some person 
or persons, either intentionally, or — it is just possible — in- 
advertently, the result of an jpversight; therefore, I apply to 
you to grant me a search-warrant.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


175 


I am sorry to refuse/' lie said, at length, “but lam 
really not satisfied that the law would justify me in doing so. 
The only direct evidence that the box did go into the Castle 
comes from that Shad; scarcely pne upon whose word we could 
venture to thrust the insult of a search-warrant upon Lord 
Dane." 

He spoke the last sentence in a sarcastic tone. Mr. Lyd- 
ney's voice rose courteously in answer. 

“ I thought it might prove so. I felt that you would be 
chary of granting a search-warrant against Lord Dane, who is 
your intimate friend. Well, Mr. Lester, I can hardly blame 
you; perhaps in your place I should not be any the more will- 
ing." 

“ Hay, nay," interposed Mr. Lester, “ don't jiutthe refusal 
upon friendship. I do not see that the grounds are sufficient 
to grant a search-warrant." 

“ I must apply to another magistrate," observed the young 
man. 

“ Of course that is entirely at your option. I do not think 
you will find another more willing to grant it than I. If you 
do, I am not sure that it would serve you." 

“ Why not?" 

“ Lord Dane is higher in the commission of peace than we 
are; we are but county magistrates; he is the lord-lieutenant; 
as such, we are under his authority — under his thumb. Were 
a warrant to search his house issued by one of us, I am not 
sure but he has the power to draw his pen down it, and render 
it null and void. I say that I am not certain of this, Mr. 
Lydney, for I would not willingly mislead you; but I fancy it 
would prove to be the fact." 

Hot a very consolatory suggestion for William Lydney. He 
rose to leave. Mr. Lester rose also. 

“ Will you spend an hour or two with us this evening, and 
be introduced to Lady Adelaide^" said the latter. “ We are 
just going to tea." 

“I shall be very happy," was the answer. “I have 
thought once or twice that I should like to know Lady Ade- 
laide." 

But no sooner had Mr. Lester given the invitation than he 
repented of it, for it occurred to him how exceedingly awkward 
it would be did Lord Dane come in, as he mostly did now of 
an evening. It might be anything but pleasant for two men 
to meet in social intercourse, one of whom was applying for a 
search-warrant against the other. Mr. Lester accordingly sat 
upon thorns, but his guest sp^^* a remarkably pleasant even- 


17G 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


ing, completely gaining the favor of Lady Adelaide. Lord 
Lane did not make his appearance. 

Bearing in mind the doubt expressed by Mr. Lester whether 
Lord Dane might not quasli^any warrant issued by a magis- 
trate, Mr. Lydney determined to apply direct to the police, 
and on the following morning proceeded to the station. The 
inspector was not there; one of the subordinate officers heard 
the story, and then asked what it was that he required — what 
was the object of his apphcation. 

“ I want the assistance of the police to aid in discovering 
this box,^^ was the reply. “ I wish Dane Castle to be searched 
forit.^^ 

The policeman gave a slight shake of the head, which 
seemed to argue rather unfavorably for Lydney^s demand. 
He could not take any such responsibility upon himself, he 
observed, but he would report the application to his superior, 
and the gentleman had better call again. 

Little indeed was Mr. Lydney acquainted with the usages 
of the neighborhood, and with Lord Dane’s sway in it, if he 
supposed the police could receive such an application and not 
make his lordship acquainted with it. The inspector himself 
carried it to the Castle in the course of the day, and Lord 
Dane accorded him a private interview. 

“Search the Castle, forsooth!” ironically ejaculated his 
lordship. “ It were more to the purpose that he permitted 
himself to be searched; that he declared who and what he is. 
Look at the facts, inspector. Here’s a young man saved from 
a wreck with what he stands upright in, taken up his abode at 
a public house, and worms himself into the best houses of the 
neighborhood, on a footing of equality. He is obstinately 
silent as to his antecedents: that he has been asked of them, I 
know, but he does not answer. How can we tell that he is 
not an adventurer, a chevalier d’industrie? Dor my own part, 
I believe him to be one, and that it will turn out so in the end; 
I have my reasons for thinking so. He spent last evening 
at Squire Lester’s.” 

“ Did he, indeed, my lord?” returned the inspector, in a 
tone of dismay, taking his cue from the peer. 

“ At Miss Bordillion’s he is intimate; at other houses he is 
intimate; he has contrived to scrape acquaintance with my 
own sister — places, all, where he has insinuated himself. 
Yesterday evening he was actually walking in the wood with 
■ — with ” — Lord Dane arrested the words on the tip of his 
tongue, and then substituted others — “ with a young lady; a 
young lady of the highest consideration.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 177 

“ Why, there's no knowing what it may end in, if he really 
is an adventurer, " cried the inspector. 

“ It will end in the neighborhood's having cause to repent its 
folly, its credulit}^" returned Lord Lane. ‘‘ With regard to 
the box he claims — and I dare say it is just as much his as it is 
yours or mine — " But here his lordship summoned Brulf and 
the key, and marched the inspector to the strong room. 

‘‘Here they are, the things that came from the wreck," 
continued Lord Lane, pointing to the articles which lay on 
the floor, just as they had done the previous day. “ Loes it 
stand to common sense that if the box had been brought to 
this room it could have vanished out of it, the door being 
secured fast?' Why that box more than any other? No, Mr. 
Inspector, if the box had been here at all, here it would be still. 
AVho is to know that he did not contrive to get it from the 
cart himself, and is making this fuss to put you police ofl the 
scent that he has got it?" 

“ A not improbable supposition, if he forked what did not 
belong to him," cried the inspector. “ A pretty fellow he, to 
talk of a search-warrant for the Castle!” 

“I’d see him hanging from the yard-arm of the tallest ship 
in the harbor before he should execute it,'' haughtily spoke his 
lordship. “ But I am far from imposing the same impedi- 
ment upon you, inspector. If you choose, for your own satis- 
faction, to go through every room and examine every nook and 
corner of the Castle, you are at liberty to do so. Brulf will 
guide you, or you may go alone, as you please. Here's the 
trestle-closet: begin with that.” 

“ My lord, for my own satisfaction I should certainly not 
need to do so: if it would be for your lordship’s satisfaction, I 
will. You do not cast a doubt to any of the servants?” he 
added, lowering his tone. 

“The servants?" echoed Lord Lane, with a pause and a 
stare, as though the idea to suspect them had not before oc- 
curred to him. “ No, I don't; what should they want with 
the box? But — there, you had better go through, the Castle: 
it will set the matter at rest. '' 

Accordingly the inspector did go through the Castle, search- 
ing it thoroughly, but found no trace of the lost box. Lord 
Lane's manner had changed to one of chilling hauteur when 
the officer rejoined him. 

“And when this man — Lydney, or whatever his name is — • 
shall presume to speak to you again of a search-warrant for 
Lane Castle, inquire a little as to who he may be, and what he 
may be doing here, and where he comes from, '' said his lord- 


178 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


ship. “ Understand me, inspector; you have my orders to do 
this: find out what you can, and report to me.” 

‘‘Very good, my lord,” said the- inspector; and, bowing 
low, he backed out from the presence of Lord Dane. 

The inspector was much occupied that day, and it was not 
till evening that Mr. Lydney succeeded in finding him. The 
inspector did not at first tell him that he would not accord his 
application; he fenced with the question. He went to work 
in his own cautious manner, every eye and ear open to gather 
what he could of the applicant and his belongings. 

“ Am I to understand,” he demanded, “that you accuse 
Lord Dane of stealing the box?” 

“No; I do not accuse him of that, not feeling sufficiently 
sure of my grounds,” was the bold answer. “That Lord 
Dane had the box taken away in the cart is indisputable; that 
it must have reached the Castle appears almost equally indis- 
putable; and also, in my opinion, that it entered it. Where, 
then, is the box? Lord Dane does not give it up; he either 
can not or he will not, one of the two; and the only course of 
action left to me, the only approach to redress, is to have the 
Castle searched by the police. ” 

“ Were those proceedings adopted they would carry with 
them an outrage, an insult upon Lord Dane,” urged the in- 
spector. “ You must remember who and what he is — a peer 
of Great Britain; lord-lieutenant of the county; lord of the 
manor; a man of high character — ” 

“ High character?” interrupted the young gentleman. 
“Yes;. high character,” warmly repeated the inspector, 
“and very high character, too. What to the contrary has 
ever been breathed against Lord Dane? But it’s of no good 
wandering from the point like this. The fact is, sir, to speak 
plainly, before we can listen to any charge or slur on Lord 
Dane, we must know who it is that would prefer it. ” 

“ What difference does that make?” inquired Mr. Lydney. 
“ It makes all the difference,” said the keen inspector. “ A 
worthless fellow, a known poacher or smuggler, might come 
to us with some trumped-up imaginary complaint against his 
lordship, and we should shovv him out at the door for his 
temerity. But were a gentleman of position and character, 
such — let us say, for example — as Squire Lester, to bring for- 
ward any charge against his lordship, it would carry weight. 
Now do you see the distinction?” 

“I am a gentleman, if you require that asswance,” re- 
turned Mr. Lydney, “ one entitled to position.” 

“ Can you prove it, sir?” 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


179 


“ You have my word for it,” was the haughty answer; “ a 
word that never'^as doubted yet.” 

The inspector smiled somewhat broadly. “ Words don’t go 
for much in law,”- said he; “proofs are better. You are an 
American, I have heard. ” 

“ I am an Englishman. That is, of English descent, 
though born in America. My father’s family are of reputa- 
tion in England, and know how to hold their own.” 

The inspector’s ears were opened an inch wider, and his 
tongue was ready. “ Where do they live? in what part of 
England? Lydney? Lydney? the name is not familiar to me 
as borne by any family of note. ’ ’ 

“ I can not give you further information. It is as I have 
told you, and you must trust to my word. ” 

“ But where can be the objection to speak out?” urged the 
officer. 

“ That is my business,” was the cold, stiff answer. 

“ Very well, sir,” returned the inspector; “ you have said 
just as much as I expected you to say and no more. You as- 
sert that you are somebody grand and great; and when I ask 
you for corroborative proof you decline to give it. Now, do 
you think that any charge from you against my Lord Dane 
would be listened to?” 

Lydney regarded him in silence. 

“ Perhaps you’ll tell me whether you followed any business 
in America?” pursued the officer. 

“ I have told you I am a gentleman,^^ was the quiet but em- 
phatic answer. 

“ Will you tell me, then, what your business may be in this 
neighborhood, and how long you intend to stop in it?” 

“ My business in the neighborhood I” echoed Mr. Lydney. 
“ Why, did not the sea cast me upon it? As to my remain- 
ing, if I choose to remain in it for good, I believe there is no 
law to prevent me. I can promise you one thing, I don’t quit 
it till the box is found.” 

“Our conference is at an end, sir,” said the inspector. 
“ My time is valuable.” 

“ Am I to understand that the police refuse their assistance 
to me in my efforts to recover the box?” 

“Not at all,” more cordially replied the inspector; “we 
should be very glad to find it for our own satisfaction. What 
we decline to do is to act in any offensive manner toward Lord 
Dane. Especially,” he pointedly added, “ when an unknown 
stranger, and one who won’t declare anything about himself, 
urges it. But now, sir, I am not ill-natured; and if it will 


180 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


ease your mind at all to know it, I can testify that if you did 
get the search executed it would be fruitless, for the box is not 
in the Castle. ” 

“ You can not know that it is not.” 

I never testify to a thing that I don’t know,” coolly re- 
turned the officer. ‘ I searched the Castle myself for it this 
day.” 

“You!” 

“ I did; searched it effectively and thoroughly; there was 
not a space the size of that,” holding up two fingers of his 
hand, “ that I did not go into. I did it by Lord Dane’s wish 
— for of course it was not an absolute impossibility, though 
next door to it, that the servants had not made free with the 
box. It is nowhere in the Castle. ” 

To say that Lydney was completely astonished at the in- 
formation would be saying little. He had fully made up his 
mind that the box was in the Castle. 

“ Then where can it be? what can have become of it?” he 
exclaimed aloud. 

“ I can’t say; to my mind it’s a queer business altogether. 
I don’t much like the fact of that Granny Bean’s Shad having 
been close to the cart when it was unloading. That imp 
would lay his hands on anything he could; and a japanned 
box got up from a wreck would be the very treasure he’d like 
to finger. Still, that idea does not go for much with me; that 
he did not carry it off himself is certain; first, because he 
could not, from its weight; next, because I have evidence that 
when the cart went away empty, he shambled empty-handed 
after it.” 

“ You have been collecting evidence upon this loss, I per- 
ceive. ” 

“ Undoubtedly. When losses take place, whether myste- 
rious or otherwise, it is our business to do so. We were yes- 
terday in possession of all the facts — so far as they go. ” 

“ And what are your deductions?” was the next eager ques- 
tion. “ Can you give a guess at how or where the abstraction 
took place?” 

“ Not the faintest. It’s as uncertain a case as ever came 
under our care. We shall keep a sharp lookout. It is your 
own box, I think you said?” the inspector carelessly added, 
with a keen, rapid glance of the eye. 

“ I did not say so,” was the unexpected answer. “ It was 
in my charge, and I have authority to claim it; but neither 
the box nor its contents belonged to me.” 

“ May I inquire whose it was?” 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


181 


When the box shall be found,” was Mr. Lydney’s re- 
joinder, suppressing a peculiar smile. “'You may ask then, 
and will be satisfactorily answered. Would it be of any use,” 
he resumed, a^ though the thought had that instant struck 
him, “ to offer a reward?” 

“ Well, it might,” said the inspector. “ Particularly if any 
customer like that young Shad should have got hold of it. 
Yes; a reward might bring the box back. ” 

“ Then be so good as to take the necessary steps to an- 
nounce it. Spare no trouble, no time, no expense; you shall 
be well repaid.” 

“ Very good, sir. What shall we say? — five pounds? — ten 
pounds? — -for the reward, I mean?” 

“ Offer a thousand pounds,” quietly rejoined Mr. Lydney. 

A thousand pounds to be paid to any one who shall restore 
the box intact. ” 

Surprise and the munificent amount both combined sent the 
inspector staggering backward. 

“A thousand pounds!” he stammered. “The box must 
be valuable, sir, and you rich to offer that.” 

“ The box, to its owner, is invaluable,’^ replied Mr. Lyd- 
ney. “ And the reward I offer would be paid from his pocket, 
not from mine.” 

He quitted the station-house as he concluded; and the in- 
spector followed him to the door and looked after him down 
the street. 

“ I said it was queer, and it is,” was his mental comment. 
“ A thousand pounds!” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A BATTLE ROYAL. — A WOOD. 

Mr. Lydney walked down the street slowly, his brain 
working. The inspector’s information of having searched the 
Castle by Lord Dane’s orders, astonished him much; and he 
began to ask himself whether he was justified in assuming 
that Lord Dane had been the willful delinquent. The train 
of thought led him to glance at others connected with the 
affair, especially young Shad. Could it be that that young 
gentleman had succeeded in blinding him, and was he the real 
thief or the assistant of the thieves? Verily he began to 
doubt it. 

Somewhat impulsive in what he did, he determined on the 
instant to seek out Shad, and question him again. A glance 


182 


LADY ADELAIDF/S OATH. 


too cunning or a word too sharp might betray Shades share in 
it. He was not quite sure of the road that vvould conduct him 
to Granny Beanes, but believed it was the one that skirted the 
wood, leading past the cottage of Wilfred Lester, and he 
took it. ^ 

“ I believe now I ought to have turned down by Miss Bor- 
dillion^s,^^ he soliloquized, as he arrived opposite Wilfred^s 
residence and halted. “ Suppose I ask?’^ 

Opening the gate he walked up the little garden, where 
something occurred that startled him considerably. The door 
was stealthily unlatched, and he was pounced upon by a tall 
female and dragged toward the dark passage. 

“ Thanks be to the stars that youT’e come!’^ apostrophized 
she in a covert whisper. Now it^s of no use your being 
angry and struggling to get off. IVe had you in my arms 
when you were a baby, and I know what^s right and what^s 
wrong. There ^s a whisper abroad that the poachers are out 
to-night; and if the keepers have got an inkling of it thereTl 
be a conflict. You shahiT go then, master; you are killing 
your wife outright — sooner a deal than she’d go of her own 
natural ailments, for she is beginning to suspect, and lies in 
dread. Have you no pity for her, Mr. Wilfred? Come in 
and let me bar the door, and then you, at any rate, will be in 
safety.” 

“ My good woman,” he exclaimed, as soon as he had breath 
to speak, for she had held him in a tight grq?, “ for whom do 
you take me? I am Mr. Lydney. Is your master at home?” 

The servant fell against the wall like one turned stupid; and 
he had to repeat his question. 

“ I’m just a fool and nothing else!” cried she, speaking in 
a light tone to cover, Lydney th(j tight, her agitation* ‘‘ I was 
expecting a friend to call upon me and thought it was him; 
and I’m sure I ask your pardon, sir. Master? no, sir; I don’t 
think he is in. ” 

“ Never mind; I merely troubled his house to ask a ques- 
tion. Which way will take me to the hut of Granny Bean?” 

“ Straight on, sir, to the right. When you come to the 
triangle turn down the field and you’ll see it — a little low cot- 
tage all by itself at the back of the wood. Once again, sir, I 
beg your pardon, and I hope you’ll never talk about the mis- 
take or what I said or did?” 

“ Not I,” laughed Mr. Lydney. “ Make my compliments 
to your master.” 

So he had been on the right road after all; and a few min- 
utes brought him to Granny Bean’s cottage. It appeared to 


XADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


183 


be closely shut up; and he might have imagined its inmates — • 
Granny and Shad — had retired to rest but for the commotion 
that was taking place within. Now rose an old woman's 
voice in shrill shrieks of rage; now Shad's in shriller whines. 
Mr. Lydney knocked on the door and on the shutters, but lit- 
tle chance was there of his being heard while the noise lasted. 

‘‘ You infamous young dog," raved she, with a profuse 
sprinkling of worse language which the reader may imagine if 
he pleases, but which certainly will not be transcribed, “ to go 
and rob your old granny of her hard-earned savings! You'll 
come to the gallows, you will." 

“ 'Tain't yourn," returned Shad, his denial intermixed 
with similar embellishments of speech. “ The new gemman 
give it me for telling him about the box; and I'll take iny 
oath to it. Come, you! hand it over." 

‘‘ Oh, you wicked sarpint! as if any gemman 'ud go and 
give you a whole silver sixpence! Now will you be off? You 
ought to have been on the watch a good half hour ago. " 

“ No, I wun't," said Shad's voice. “ I wun't go on the 
watch, and I wun't stir anywheres till I gets my sixpence." 

The old woman appeared to be beating him, or he her, by 
the scuffling sound and the shrieks. “ I'll tell Miss Tiflfle! I'll 
tell Miss Tiffle!" the old voice reiterated. 

Miss Tiffle may be hanged, and you with her!" gasped 
Shad, as the commotion grew worse and worse. Mr. Lydney 
had no doubt they were fighting and struggling for the posses- 
sion of the sixpence. He feared some injury might be done, 
and he gave a thundering peal at the shutters, enough to 
awaken their alarm, just as a loud shout of triumph from Shad 
seemed to proclaim that victory and the sixpence had declared 
themselves for him. 

Total silence supervened; the knock had startled them. 
Mr. Lydney thundered again. But still he remained unan- 
swered. lie could hear some stealthy movements inside, ac- 
companied by the hasty shutting of a door; and he knocked 
once more, louder than ever. 

It brought forth the head of the woman to a window on the 
right. The cottage had two rooms, both on the ground-floor, 
a window in each. She opened the shutters and thrust her 
fa(;e through the aperture, reconnoitering — a red and wrinkled 
face, surmounted by a cap in tatters, probably (the tatters) 
the result of the recent conflict, the whole shaking as if suffer- 
ing from palsy. 

“ Have you been committing murder here?" demanded 
Mr. Lydney. 


184 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


“ I was saying of my prayers out loud, if that^s murder,^’ 
returned the dame. “ What now? what do you mean?'^ 

The bold assertion took away his self-possession for a mo- 
ment. Where was the profit of bandying words with such a 
woman? “ I want Shad,^^ he resumed. 

“(Shad! I canH go for to disturb him from his rest to- 
night. Shades abed and asleep. 

“ Why, you audacious old creature he could not help ex- 
claiming. “I wonder you don^t fear a judgment for false- 
hoods so deliberate. You and Shad have just been at it, tooth 
and nail, fighting after a sixpence. Let me tell you the six- 
pence is his, for I gave it him.'’^ 

“ Now did you, indeed, sir?^^ was the bland answer, the 
tone changing as if by magic; ‘‘ what a dear, good, generous 
gentleman you must be! You haveiiH got another about you 
to bestow in charity upon a poor, lone, wretched, half -starved 
widder, have you? I^d remember you in my prayers ever 
after, I would. 

“ If I had fifty I would not give you the shadow of one; and 
I don^t imagine your prayers will do yourself much good let 
alone anybody else. I want Shad, I say.^^ 

“ Oh, sir, dear sir, you are joking; perhaps another time 
youfil remember me. Fd be everlasting grateful if it was only 
a few poor coppers. 

Do you hear me ask for Shad?^^ interrupted Mr. Lydney. 
“ Send him out to me; or open the door that I may get to 
him.^^ 

“ Shad's abed and asleep, which I'll swear to; and I daren't 
break into his night's rest," was the impudent answer. ‘‘ A 
delicate child, as he is, and the stay and. staff o' my life — if I 
was to lose him I should die of grief. Come any time in the 
morning, sir, when his night's rest's over, and you're wel- 
come. I tucked him up, the darling, a hour ago in his little 
bed, and a sweet sleep he dropped off into." 

‘‘ Of all the extraordinary characters, I think you must be 
the worst!" uttered Mr. Lydney. Shad's no more in bed 
than I am. I heard your confiict, I tell you. These false as- 
sertions sound perfectly awful from a woman at vour time of 
life." 

“ Strange noises is heard outside this hut at times— fglks 
have said so afore. It's the witches a-playing in the air, I 
fancy; and it's them you must have heard — unless it was me 
at my prayers." 

‘‘ Will you send out Shad?" 

“ I'm sure I'd obleege you in anyways but that, such a nice. 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


185 


gentleman as you seem to be; but I wouldn’t wake up my 
poor sickly grandchild for anything — no, not if you offered me 
fifty sixpences. 

Giving a good-night to Granny Bean, more emphatic than 
polite, Mr. Lydney strode away. He must put off seeing Shad 
till the morning. He did not return to the road, but went to 
the back of the cottage, where he believed he should find a 
path leading through the wood, and that would be the nearest 
way to the Sailor’s Rest. Curiosity induced him to turn 
round and look at the cottage, and there he saw a door; so 
Master Shad and his granny had ingress and egress by back 
and by front. 

Pursuing the path, which was there as he had expected, Mr. 
Lydney sped on with a smart step, buried in thought. It was 
a starlight night, though few stars penetrated to the wood- 
path; nevertheless, it was not wholly dark. He had arrived 
at about the midst of the wood where the trees were thickest, 
when a sound as of one pushing through the thick brambles 
caught his ear. Having been told that certain suspicious char- 
acters did sometimes lurk in that wood, Mr. Lydney drew close 
to the trees to see who might be approaching. 

It was Wilfred Lester. Panting, eager, excited, he came 
tearing on, at a right angle with Lydney, where no path 
seemed to be. He crossed the path by a bound, penetrated 
the trees on its opposite side, and went pushing on as though 
he were making straight for home, and clearing a way to get 
to it. 

Mr. Lydney remained immovable. Not looking after him, 
for the trees prevented that, but wondering what his appear- 
ance could mean. That Wilfred was in excessive agitation 
was apparent; and involuntarily certain mysterious words 
spoken by the servant when she had so unceremoniously made 
a prisoner of him, rose to the recollection of Mr. Lydney. 
He was, as the saying runs, “ putting that and that to- 
gether,” and by no means liking the appearance of things, 
■when another movement — one far more stealthy — attracted his 
attention. 

Stealing out into the path in the trail left by Wilfred Les- 
ter came Mr. Shad, like a young hound scenting its prey. 
Once in the path he made a dead stoppage, unconscious that 
any eye or ear was near him. 

‘‘ He’s tored home to his lair,” soliloquized he aloud, look- 
ing at the spot where Wilfred Lester had disappeared. “No 
good to track him again to-ni^t. I’ll go and tell her now.” 

Mr. Lydney had stretched out his hand to lay it on the boy, 


180 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


but a second impulse prompted bim to hesitate. Far better, 
himself, track this erratic gentleman, and discover, if possible, 
what treason was being hatched. That some plot was agate 
against Wilfred Lester, and probably against others, Mr. Lyd- 
ney felt convinced. He also- felt pretty nearly convinced of 
another thing; that Wilfred was hatching enough mischief of 
his own accord against himself; but that was no reason why 
Shad should augment it into more. 

Shad flew along the path, in the direction opposite to Granny 
Bean’s, and when near the end of the wood struck among the 
trees to the right; a minute or two brought him to the wood’s 
edge and close to the back of Squire Lester’s. Mr. Lydney 
followed him; tall and slender, he could penetrate the trees as 
well as Shad, and when Shad stopped he stopped. 

Shad was in his favorite attitude— twined, just like a snake, 
round one of the outer tree’s thin stem — gazing in expectation 
at the open space before him. Mr. Lydney halted sufficient- 
ly near to see and hear: he wondered who the her ” was to 
whom Shad was bound. Having had experience by this time 
of the insatiable nature of Mme. Eavensbird’s curiosity, a half 
suspicion crossed his mind that she might be the audience ex- 
pected by Shad. Hot so, however. 

A female of stealthy and ambling gait, not unlike Shad’s 
own, appeared, somewhat mysteriously in that open space. 
She could not have sprung from the ground, like the spirits do 
in pantomimes, therefore it was fair to infer that she had 
emerged from some back-door of Squire Lester’s. Shad gave 
a soft whistle, and the lady came tripping up to it. It, was 
Tiffle. 

“ Well?”, cried she. 

“ He’s agone right home,” answered Shad. “ When I got 
up to ’em, they was a having hot words, him and Beecher and 
Drake and another; I thought it were Ben Nicholson, but I 
wouldn’t swear it. He was blowing of ’em up — ” 

“ Ben Nicholson was blowing ’em up?” interrupted Tiffle. 

How stupid you be!” snapped Shad. Lester. He was 
a blowing the three men up for wanting to go right where they 
know’d the keepers ’ud be, and he got in a passion a swearing 
he wouldn’t jine in nothing that might bring bloodshed, and 
back he went, a cutting right through the thick of the bushes. 
I followed after him till he cut over the cross-path, our’n, and 
into the bushes ayond it. I know’d then that gone home he 
was for sartiu. I say, where’ll be the pull o’ my dodging him, 
if he’s a-going to take to shirking?” 

Tiffle had listened in silence. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 187 

“ How did they ferret; out where the keepers would be?^^ 
asked she. 

“ Can'^t tell/^ said Shad. “ I only got up at the tail o’ 
their confab. I didn’t hear nothing of what they’d been a 
saying afore.” 

“ Then you were late; and a wicked, inattentive, good-for- 
nothing — ’ ’ 

Shad began to whimper. 

“ If I was late it were granny’s fault, Mrs. Tiffle. She set 
on me and a’most killed me. You should be hid in the oven 
or somewhere, and see her in h^r tantrums, you’d not believe 
it was anything but Old Nick’s mother let loose. Look here! 
here’s where she bited me, and here’s where she kicked at me, 
and here’s where she scratted me, and clutches of my hair she 
tored out byhan’fuls.” 

Shad exhibited various damaged spots about his face and 
arms, and let fall a shower of dolorous tears. Tiffle — some- 
what to the surprise of Mr. Lydney, who had recognized her 
for Lady Adelaide’s maid — was remarkably demonstrative in 
her condolences. She grasped Shad tenderly in her arms and 
kissed the places fervently with her own lips. 

“ Granny’s a regular hyenia when she’s put up,” cried she. 
“ But I’ll be even with her. What did she” do it for?” 

‘‘ She have got the nastiest, slyest ways,” returned Shad, 
who appeared not to relish the embrace so much as Tiffle did, 
and wriggled himself from it as soon as he possibly could. 
“ She dives into my pockets and into anything, she do, and 
to-night she found a sixpence in ’em, and she set on and 
swored it were hern, and that I robbed her on’t, and she 
grabbed it from «me, and — my! warn’t there a shindy! and 
such a row came to the shutters amid it. I grabbed it again, 
though,” concluded the gentleman, with glee, as he took out 
the bi:ight sixpence and exhibited it to Tiffle. 

Tiffle did not look at it with equanimity. She took the 
same view of its possession that Granny Bean had done — 
though whether granny had really believed that it was stolen 
from her or that she put forth the plea to gain possession of it 
can not be told. 

“ You little divil!” apostrophized Tiffle, her affectionate 
mood changing. “If you begin to bone money, you’ll end 
your clays a working in gangs and irons. Now you tell me 
where you stole that?” 

“ If ever I see the like! You’re as bad as granny,” whined 
the boy. “ I might as well be a dog what’s mad, and roped- 


188 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


up at once! That there sixpence was given me by a gem man; 
gived out and out. 

“ Give for what?^’ sharply responded Tiffle. 

“ Give for telling about his box. It^s that one what^s stop- 
ping at the Sailor^s Eest. He asked — did I see the things 
took up to the Castle gates, and I said I see ^em; and then he 
said if I^d'tell him the truth and no lie, whether the box went 
into the Castle or not, I should get a sixpence, and I did, and 
he give it me."’*’ 

“ Hid you see the box took in?^^ quickly asked Tiffle. 

“ What should ail me?'’"’ responded Shad. “ I were a 
watching. 

“ And it was took right in?^^ 

‘‘ It was took right in,^^ answered Shad, his eyes glistening, 
“ as right in as ever anything was took into that Castle yet. 
Them two miller^s chaps carried of it, like they did t’other 
lots, and that big Mr. Brulf a follered of ’em. Not as he 
seemed to be taking much heed hisself. I telled the gemman 
this, and he give me the sixpence.” 

“ Shad, you must keep your eyes open upon him — that Lyd- 
ney — as well as upon Will Lester,” was Tiffle ’s next remark. 
“Ferret out all about him, where he goes, and what he 
does; he’s in this wood sometimes, I know; find out what for. 
He looks like a gen tie min; but ho may be one of them gen- 
tlemin what comes to places to be after watches, and chains, 
and rings. You find out. I’ve got my reasons. And be 
sure, mark it if you see him with Miss Lester.” 

Mr. L^fflney, from his hiding-place, felt infinitely obliged to 
her. 

“ And now there’s no more to be done to-night, as he has 
hooked it off home,” proceeded the refined Tiffle. “ So you 
get back again as quick as you can, and get to bed.” 

She turned away toward the Hall; Shad turned toward the 
path that would lead him to Granny Bean’s; and Mr. Lydney 
remained where he was till the echo of their footsteps should 
die away. 

Scarcely had Tiffle gone many yards, however, when she 
met Lord Dane in the angle made by the side of the Hall; to 
the right was the back entrance; to the left the front. Tiffle 
was speeding on to the former; Lord Dane was coming from 
the latter, and they came in contact. 

“ Is it you, Tiffle?” cried his lordship, gayly. “ Enjoying 
a ramble by starlight?” 

“ Oh, my lord, you are pleased to joke,” simpered Tiffle. 
“ My days for starlighted rambles is* over. I leave ’em for 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


189 


the young now, my lord: I've had my turn. Last night I see 
Miss Lester walking cozy in the starlight — the evening-star 
was oyt, at any rate, if it wasn't late enough for the others — 
and I thought how romintic it was; it put me in mind of my 
own sentamintel days, my lord. There was a gentlemin by 
her side — him that the wreck cast up. " 

Had it been daylight, instead of starlight, Tiffle would 
scarcely have presumed to fix her eyes so keenly upon Lord 
Dane: she believed she had thrown out a shaft that would 
take. 

“ Wrecks cast up rogues as well as gentlemen," responded 
his lordship, in a stern, displeased tone. A man whom no- 
body knows is scarcely one to be walking by starlight with 
Miss Lester. " 

Just the very refliction that occurred to myself, my lord," 
acquiesced Tiffle, complacently. “ And says I to myself, ‘ I'll 
keep a sharp lookout over you, young man, for Miss Lester's 
sake, if you presumes to ipproach too near of her. ' And so I 
shall, my lord." 

“ Quite right, Tiffle," cried his lordship, warmly. And as 
they parted company, a golden sovereign was left in Tiffle's 
hand. 

This appeared to be a night prolific in adventures and en- 
counters. Before Mr. Lydney had well removed from his 
hiding-place, he found himself face to face with a man — a 
youngish man — who was dragging himself covertly through 
the wood. He appeared alarmingly startled at the encounter, 
and leveled his gun at Mr. Lydney. 

Halloo, my man, what's that for?" cried the latter, un- 
moved. “ Do you take me for a cut-throat?" 

‘‘ If you don't say who you are, and what you are doing 
here. I'll shoot you," was the reply. 

“ I feel infinitely obliged to you. Have you any more right 
to be in the wood than I have? I should be glad to know." 

Mr. Lydney spoke with* courtesy; and the man could not 
fail to remark that his voice was that of a gentleman. lie 
had feared a keeper. 

“You were posted there to watch me?" he exclaimed. 

“Hay," said Mr. Lydney, “ I may with equal reason re- 
verse the accusation, and say you were watching me. I don't 
know who you are; I never saw you in my life that I know of; 
and my time is more valuable than to be wasted in looking 
after strangers if yours is not. You must have escaped from 
a lunatic asylum." 

The man let fall his gun. He had been peering at Mr. 


190 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Lydney as well as tlie obscurity around allowed him, and at 
last made out that he was not a foe; at all events, not a known 
one. 

“ I ask your pardon for my haste, he said; I thought 
you were somebody else. The fact is, nobody but suspicious 
characters are ever prowling in the wood so late as this, unless 
it’s them dratted keepers, who are ever ready to swear an in- 
nocent man’s life away.” 

Mr. Lydney laughed. Young-man-like, he had no objec- 
tion to a spice of adventure, and he was naturally of a kindly, 
affable disposition; if he could do no good to a fellow-creature, 
he would not do him harm. 

“ Are you aware of the insinuation against yourself wliich 
that last speech implied? ‘ Nobody but suspicious characters.’ 
I conclude you mean poachers. Poachers and keepers. Well, 
I am neither the one nor the other. If you choose to beat 
about this wood, or any other part of Danesheld, from January 
till December, carrying a gun in one hand and snare-nets in 
the other, you are welcome, for all the business it. is of mine. 
Were they my preserves, it would be a different matter.” 

You won’t go and say to-morrow that^^ou dropped upon 
me here with a gun?” 

“ I should be clever to say it, seeing I know you neither by 
sight nor name. But if you prefer a specific promise, you may 
take it. Life is short enough, my man, for the little good we 
can accomplish without passing it in doing gratuitous injury 
to others. ” 

The man liked the tones, and liked the words; he could not 
account for it, but his heart opened to the speaker, as it had 
not opened of late years. 

“ I think, sir, you are the gentleman stopping at the Sailor’s 
Best, whose box is missing.” 

“ The same,” replied Mr. Lydney. 

“ I nearly got into trouble over that box yesterday. I hap- 
pened to be passing the Castle on my way to my home as the 
cart was unloading, and I halted for a few minutes, and looked 
on. Them keen police heard of it, and had me up to the sta- 
tion ; whether they thought I had walked it "off, or had seen 
anybody else walk it off, 1 don’t know. I laughed at ’em. 
Young Shad and two or three more urchins could testify that 
I didn’t go near enough to touch anything on the cart.” 

“ You must have heard the box described,” rejoined Mr. 
Lydney. “ Did you see it?” 

“ I did not see it, sir, to my knowledge or recollection. But 
if, as I hear, it was underneath the rest of the things, I was 


LABT ADELAIDE’S OATH. 191 

not likely to. I stopped but a fe^y minutes, and they had just 
begun to unload.” 

“ You can not give a guess as to where it is gone, or who 
took it.^” resumed Mr. Lydney, a thought occurring to him. 

“ No, that I can’t. I have not thought much about it. 
That Shad’s as ready-fingered as a magpie, but they say it was 
too heavy for him to lift.” 

“ I would give a good reward if it were restored to me, un- 
tampered with,” resumed Mr. Lydney. 

“ Would you, though?” quickly rejoined the poacher, as if 
the sound were music to his ears. 

“Liffcy guineas.” 

‘‘Fifty guineas!” uttered the man, as much astonished as 
the inspector had boen. 

“ Fifty guineas, and no questions asked. Provided it were 
restored to me before midday to-morrow. After that, a differ- 
ent offer may be made, and questions asked, pretty sharp 
ones. ” 

“By jingo! that’s worth looking after,” exclaimed the 
man. “ I know a fellow or two, who have done a little in the 
fingering line, sir, and I’ll — I’ll be on to them. If I can hear 
of the box you shall have it on those terms. Honor bright, 
though.” 

“ Honor bright, on the word of a gentleman. The fifty 
guineas shall be paid, and no’ inquiries made. I fancied you 
might perhaps hear of it among your friends.” 

Little cared Mr. Ben Beecher — for it was no other — for the 
last delicate insinuation: indeed, it may be questioned if he 
heard it. A golden vision had been opened to him, and in 
that he was absorbed. 

But the two, so strangely met, were not to part without ob- 
servation. Lord Dane, in walking away from his conference 
with Tiffle, heard the sound of voices, and began to peer about 
him for the purpose of ascertaining who their owners might 
be. His lordship’s thoughts were directed to poachers. 

He saw Mr. Ben Beecher, the latter passing out of the wood 
close to Lord Dane. But no sooner had he passed out than he 
passed in again, penetrating to Lydney. 

“ I’m afraid it’s of no use saying to-morrow at midday, sir: . 
there’ll not be sufficient time for what I shall want to do, and 
the people I must see. Say twenty-four hours from this, and 
I have little doubt I can hear of it, and bring it. I would 
meet you here, too, by ourselves: I’d rather not go to the 
Sailor’s Best. ” 

“ Very well,” replied Mr. Lydney, after considering, “I ' 


192 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


will give you the extra time. In this same spot,” he added, 
after a pause; ‘‘ to-morrow night at the same time.” 

Now the last sentence, only the last, appointing the meet- 
ing, reached the ears of Lord Dane, for Lydney raised his 
voice that it might catch Beecher’s ear, who was again depart- 
ing. 

“Who can the speaker be?” thought Lord Dane: “the 
voice does not seem unfamiliar. I’ll be down upon you, my 
gentlemen, to-morrow night.” 

Lydney ! His lordship stared with all his eyes as Lydney 
came forth to view, and walked away. 

“ Then he is a bad character, and a poacher to boot!” mut- 
tered Lord Dane. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE WKIT. 

Brightly rose the sun on the following morning; brightly, 
as the day went on, did it throw its rays into the little sitting- 
room of Wilfred Lester. On the sofa lay Edith; she did not 
keep her bed, but was in the habit of getting up after break- 
fast. Wilfred sat on the arm of the sofa making some flies 
for Ashing. 

A fair, fragile being, almost a ‘child, looked she, as she lay 
there: her features attenuated, her cheeks hectic. She wore a 
white wrapping-gown, which possibly made her appear more 
of an invalid than any 'other dress would. She was anxious to 
say something to her husband, but the topic was one of dread 
and agitation, and she trembled to set about it. 

“ Wilfred,” she exclaimed at length, dashing hurriedly into 
the subject, “ where was it that you went last night?” 

“Went?” he returned, bending his head over his flies. 
“ Nowhere in particular. I was out and about, talking to 
one, talking to another.” 

^ “So you always say,” resumed Edith, in a low tone. 
“ AVhy will you not tell me the truth?” 

“You are not jealous, are you?” was his next remark, with 
an air of pleasantry. 

She raised herself, and seizing his hand, drew him toward 
her, speaking in a nervous whisper. 

“ Oh, Wilfred, my husband, do not try to joke it away, but 
answer me. Is it true what people say? They declare that 
you go out with the poachers; that yoii are learning to do as 
they do.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


193 


Stop a bit/^ he interrupted. ‘‘ Who told you that, Edith? 
Because if any man were base enough to bring to a wife such 
tales of her husband, 1^11 mark him as sure as my name^s 
Lester. If a woman, I^U tell her what she is.^^ 

‘‘ Is it true, Wilfred?^' 

“ I ask who brought you the news?^^ he reiterated. ‘‘ Be- 
fore I answer your question you must answer mine. 

“ Ifo one brought it to me in the sense you would imply,^’ 
she rejoined. “ It was — let me see — the day before yesterday. 
I had come down here, and Sarah did not know it; the door 
was ajar, and I heard some one accost her at the kitchen- 
window. She was ironing at the board underneath it, and I 
suppose had got it open. I donH know who it was, AVilfred; 
I can not detail to you what I heard; neither did I listen pur- 
posely, but some words caught my ear. They turned me sick; 
faint; they were to the effect that you went out at night with 
the poachers, that you had been one of them in that late 
attack upon Cattley; the words and the tone seemed to insin- 
uate that Sarah must know it to be true. Oh, Wilfred, I have 
felt since that morning that I would rather die than bear the 
burden of the fear.^^ 

“ Would it not have been as easy for you to assume the 
wicked tale to be false?^'’ he inquired. 

“ I might have deemed it false, but for Sarah^s words in 
answer; I am sure I should have thought it too dreadfully im- 
probable to be true. But sher— 

“Why! did she uphold it ?^^ he interrupted, with impetu- 
osity. 

“ No; she denied it,^^ answered Edith, in a low, shuddering 
tone; “ but she denied it with falsehoods; denied it too eagerly. 
She retorted that whoever said it must be fools and liars; she 
vowed and protested that her master— you — was never out 
after sunset. Nqw you know, Wilfred, it is after sunset- 
after dark in fact— that you do go out; and some nights you 
have not been home till early morning. Besides, there was a 
tone of fear in Sarah's voice as she spoke, giving me the im- 
pression that she knew it to be true. " 

“ And that's all?" he asked. 

“ Is it not enough?" 

“No: you must not be so silly. Making me into a poacher, 
indeed! a midnight attacker of keepers! You have certainly 
an exalted opinion of your husband, Edith. I would no more 
attack a keeper, than I would attack you. " 

“ But where is it you go to when you are out at night?" 

‘ ‘ Never you mind where, Edith. I am not attacking 


194 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


keepers. If I get into any troublesome escapades, it will serve 
my father right. ' I don’t mean escapades that the law could 
touch, you foolish girl,” he added, hastily, seeing her terrified 
countenance. “ Pray have you been gossiping over this to 
Sarah?” 

Edith shook her head. 

“ I have not hinted to her that I heard anything said, but I 
have asked her where you go to at night — I could, not help it. 
I asked her two or three times yesterday, and she pretended to 
think I was afraid of your catching cold, and kept telling me 
not to worry myself. ’ ’ 

Edith,” said Wilfred Lester, “ a man is generally driven 
to good or to evil by circumstances. As they may be favor- 
able, or the contrary, as the world uses him, so follow his own 
acts. ” 

“ As his conduct is, so will his circumstances be,” she said, 
stopping what he was about to add. “ Yes, Wilfred, it lies 
with himself to be prosperous and happy, or not; in nine cases 
out of ten, you will find that as a man plants, so will he reap.” 

“ Nonsense!” returned Wilfred, “ it is as he’s used. Look 
at my case. I am used infamously by my father — kept out of 
what I ought to enjoy on the one hand; on the other, I have 
you, whom I have made my wife, and vowed to succor and 
cherish, dying of want — yes, of want, Edith— before my eyes. 
My darling! if I went into the highway, and robbed the first 
man I met, none could say I was not driven to it.” 

“ Don’t think of me,” she answered, with eager, painful 
emotion, her wan, white face lifted pleadingly to his. “ I 
shall grow stronger soon; I do not require anything more than 
I have. If you will only be patient and endure, this dark 
cloud will pass away. Have faith in God. But, oh, Wilfred! 
do not let my imaginary wants lead you to evil. ” 

“ Imaginary!” he uttered. 

“ Indeed, I think I shall soon be better; and you know my 
Aunt Margaret brings me many things. Wilfred, remember 
— ‘ we must not do evil that good may come.’ ” 

“ My wrongs make me desperate; your suffering makes me 
desperate,” retorted Wilfred. But she interrupted him. 

“ It^ is just this, Wilfred: if you do wrong, or go wrong, 
you will kill me. I can bear poverty and privation; I can 
not bear disgrace and ill-doing. Act so as to bring it upon 
us and I shall not survive. ” 

At this juncture, Sarah put in her head; half spoke, half 
beckoned to her master, and he followed her to the adjoining 
room, the kitchen. Edith, her fears, since the last two days. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


195 


painfully alert against some obscure dreads to wliich she could 
give neither shape nor naffie, sprung from the sofa and un- 
latched the door, which they had closed. 

Sarah had advanced to the ironing-board, and pointed to 
some beans that lay upon it. 

What’s to be done for missis?” asked she. “ She can’t 
eat these, and they are everything I have been able to get to- 
day. Credit’s all gone, master.” 

“ There’s a partridge in the house.” 

“ Well, master, the truth is, she can’t eat partridge any 
longer. She never liked ’em. When at Miss Bordillion’s, as 
I hear, if they had game for dinner, something was always got 
for her. There are some folks who turn against game, and 
she’s one; and when they are sick, their fancies are all the 
stronger.. And for this last month pretty near, she has had 
nothing else. I have tried the partridges every way to tempt 
•her; I’ve roasted ’em, I’ve boiled ’em. I’ve fricasseed ’em, 
I’ve fried ’em, and one day I chopped ’em up and made ’em 
into balls, but it didn’t do; it 2uas partridge, and that was 
enough. She makes a show of eating a bit before you; but 
her stomach heaves right against ’em now, and she can’t pre- 
tend any longer. ” 

Wilfred Lester stood by the board, gloomy and perplexed. 
He knew no way whatever of procuring anything else for 
Edith : as §arah observed, all credit was gone. If a mutton- 
chop would have saved her life, he must pay the butcher for it 
before it was sent home. 

“ Can’t you do up some eggs for to-day?” he asked. 

“ I could if I had ’em. Eggs are no more to be had than 
anything else, without money. And there’s another thing, 
master, that looks blue: the coals are almost out.” 

Inexpressibly relieved to find the colloquy with Sarah related 
to no more dread topic than her comforts, Edith breathed a 
silent thanksgiving, and called to her husband. It was at this 
moment her voice was heard. 

‘‘ Wilfred.” 

He stepped into the parlor. She was standing in it with a 
bright, quite a merry face. 

“ Do not be so anxious about my luxuries,” smiled she. 
‘‘ I overheard your debate with Sarah. I was alarmed when 
she called you out — mysteriously, as I thought — and I opened 
the door. I can eat some of the beans; I can, indeed; I shall 
do very well. As to the partridges — well, I confess that I am 
tired of them: but you must treat me as a capricious child is 


196 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


served; make me go without if I can not eat what is pro- 
vided.” ^ 

“And will that be the way to get up your strength? to 
restore you to health?” he mournfully returned. “ Whilst the 
grass grows, Edith, the steed starves; whilst you are starving, 
I may lose you.” 

She turned away, for her eyes were filling with tears. But 
just then some commotion was heard in the kitchen. Sarah’s 
voice was distinguishable, and raised in an angry tone, appar- 
ently to some one who had entered. 

“ Then I say he’s not in, and he won’t be in to-day, that’s 
more. So be off out, please.” 

“ I say he is in,” responded a man’s voice. “ Not a mo- 
ment ago, I see him at that there kitchen-winder. You may 
as well fetch him here, for I shall stop till I see him. I’m a 
emissary of the law, and the law can’t be played with; and if 
folks gets into trouble against the law they must pay for it.” 

Edith, her eyes full of terror, and her face ghastly, seized 
hold of her husband, as if her feeble arms could shield him 
from harm. She was connecting this unseen visitor with the 
wild rumors afioat of the night work; and terrific visions were 
dazzling her eyes of handcuffs, a prison, a public trial; per- 
haps death. Sarah’s voice was heard again in loud remon- 
strance and abuse. 

“ Don’t keep me, Edith; don’t alarm yourself; I must go 
^nd see what it is,” he whispered, himself agitated.- “ I must, 
my dear! we shall have the fellow penetrating to this room.” 

Unwinding her hands, he put her hastily in a chair, and 
entered the kitchen. Sarah had armed herself with the tongs, 
which she was presenting in a warlike manner toward the 
stranger, hoping to menace him away. The man laughed de- 
risively when he saw Wilfred, put a paper in his hand, and 
disappeared. Sarah dashed down the tongs in a passion. 

“ Now why couldn’t you keep away, in there?” she wrath- 
f ully demanded, more as a person in authority speaks to a sub- 
ordinate, than a servant to a master. “ I know what it is; as 
long as he didn’t serve it you were safe. ”’ 

“ He would have dropped upon me, going out. Don’t 
make a fuss. ” 

“No, he needn’t,” snapped Sarah. “You might have 
slid out at the back door, and over the palings when you 
wanted to go out, or strided out at the side window. There’s 
plenty of ways of dodging them gentry, if folks have a mind 
to it. My goodness, missis! what’s the matter?” 

Edith had'come into the kitchen, the image of ghastly ter- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


197 


ror, and shaking like a leaf. “ What is it all?" she gasped. 
“ What's that? Show it me! oh, Wilfred, show it me!" 

Her voice rose quite harsh in its agitation, and she pointed 
to the paper left by the man. Wilfred Lester crumpled it up 
in his hands to keep it from her. 

“ It's nothing, Edith; don't disturb yourself. Nothing but 
a stupid bill." 

Sarah gave a snatch at the paper; Wilfred would not let go 
it; and the two had actually a sort of tussle for its possession, 
in which the paper got torn, and Sarah mastered it. She 
opened it and laid it before her mistress. 

“ There> ma'am, now you can see for yourself; it is nothing 
but a claim on master for money. Did you not see, sir, that 
her fears were o' something worse; that the agony were crush- 
ing her?" added the woman, in her strong sense, as she 
turned again to her master. 

Standing at the kitchen-door — ^for she had entered the house 
unperceived, like the unwelcome visitor had done — was Miss 
Bordillion, an amazed spectator of the scene. 

“ Have you all taken leave of your senses?" she demand- 
ed. ‘‘ What does this mean?" 

“ It means that we have come to the end of everything," 
bitterly retorted Wilfred, as he returned to the sitting-room, 
leaving those to follow him who would: “of food, of credit, 
of hope. And the next thing for me will be a prison. Lady 
Adelaide will hold a jubilee the night I enter it. She is at the 
bottom of our misfortunes. Aunt (for so he had learned to 
call her), “ when I go in, you must take care of Edith." 

Edith stole up to her husband, her face white still; the livid 
white of fear, not of illness. She was unable to comprehend 
the paper; and certain ominous words in it. 

“ In the name of our sovereign lady, the queen," did not 
tend to reassure her. “ Do explain it to me," she gasped. 

“ It is a simple thing, easy enough of comprehension," was 
Wilfred's answer, his mind smarting terribly under its annoy- 
ances; “ I owe — let me look at the amount — nine pounds, 
three shillings; that's five pounds for the debt and four for 
the costs; and unless I pay it by a certain day, they will take 
further proceedings against me. It is a writ, Edith." 

“ What proceedings?" she inquired. 

“ Oh, I hardly know. The result would be a prison; 
couldn't be anything else in my case." 

She still held the writ in her hand, and glanced at it dubi- 
ously. 

“ You are sure — sure it is only a debt, Wilfred?" 


198 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Why, what else should it be?^^ he returned. ‘‘ Of course 
it is a debt. What can your thoughts be running on, Edith? 

He took it from her, and she sighed heavily as she relin- 
quished it. Miss Bordillion, after exchanging a few sentences 
with Sarah, had come in and seated herself; she was looking 
exceedingly perplexed and grieved. 

“ It does appear to me,^^ she began, ‘‘ that things can not 
go on longer in this way; that they ought not so to go on, even 
if your creditors, Wilfred, would allow them."^^ 

“ How is it to be helped?^ ^ was Wilfred answer. My 
father, who ought to help it, will not; and I can not force 
him. Neither have I a claim to any one else. 

“ In the last few days-^I may say weeks — I have reflected 
upon it much. I have prayed to be directed for the right,^^ 
pursued Miss Bordillion, in her quiet way, and I have at 
length come to the conclusion that if Squire Lester will not 
help you, out of favor, he must out of right. 

Who’s to make him?” put in Wilfred. 

“ You know how very, very greatly I esteem Mr. Lester, 
how warm a regard I have for him,” pursued Miss Bordillion, 
the delicate pink of her cheek ,iiicreasing to brightness. 
“ Hitherto, I have taken his part in this business; I have 
been unwilling to cross him, or say a word that could reflect 
upon him — and you know, my dears, that you did do wrong 
in disobediently marrying — ” 

“ Halt there!” interrupted Wilfred. ‘‘ I do not see the dis- 
obedience. My father approved of the union in the flrst place; 
and could I be so base as to desert Edith because Colonel 
Bordillion lost his fortune? . No; there was the more reason 
for my fulfllling the engagement; and my father would never 
have been implacable but for Lady Adelaide. ” 

Well, we will not reap up the question of the marriage; 
it can do no good now,” sighed Miss Bordillion. 

“ The very moment I read the news of Colonel Bordillion’s 
loss, I knew that Lady Adelaide would set her face against 
Edith, and induce my father to do so; and therefore I chose 
to act for myself. And why should she? Out of regard for 
me? No; but because she fears a sixpence going out of my 
father’s pocket; if it came to me it would be that much loss 
to her own children. It was a black day for me and Maria 
when he made Lady Adelaide his wife. ” 

Miss Bordillion thought within her that it had not been a 
bright day for somebody else. She resumed: 

“ There was a sum of money that ought to have been paid 
to you, Wilfred, when you came of age. You did not have it.” 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


199 


His cheek flushed as he listened. 

‘‘ A sum of money! I had none paid to me. What sum of 
money?” 

“ Twelve hundred pounds. It was left to you like Maria’s ♦ 
fortune was left to her: save that hers was a large sum, yours 
a small. Squire Lester enjoyed the interest: the principal was 
to be paid to you when you were of age: Maria’s when she 
married. ” 

‘‘ And why have I been kept out of it? why has even the 
knowledge of it been denied me?” fiercely responded Wilfred. 

“ I have spoken latterly to Squire Lester about it,” sighed 
Miss Bordillion. “ I have intimated that it ought to be given 
up to you; that both law and justice demand that it should 
be. He said, ‘ No, neither law nor justice;’ but he would not 
discuss it. So then I took counsel with myself, I took counsel 
in my prayers, and it appeared to me that my duty lay in 
telling you.” 

Wilfred sat gazing at her, astounded at the tidings. They 
were too good to be received without doubt. 

“ Is there, indeed, no mistake?” he uttered. “ Am I truly 
entitled, now, to twelve hundred pounds of my own?” 

“ It was so left,” replied Miss Bordillion. 

A flash of joy, not seen in his face for a long while, illumi- 
nated it to brightness. He stooped down and kissed Edith. 

“ You shall have something better than partridges yet, 
darling. ” 

“ Where are you going?” she asked, as he was leaving the 
room. 

“ To the Hall. My father and. I must have a settlement 
now.” 

“ Edith, what did he mean about partridges?” inquired Miss 
Bordillion, who had caught but the one word. 

“ Nothing worth telling, aunt. It is only the housekeep- 
ing grievances over again. . 

“ I know it is a hard time with you, Edith, and has been. 
But, Edith, has it been wholly undeserved? I know Wilfred 
is careless and impetuous; man-like, he does not trace cause 
and effect; he does not see as we do. You did act wrongly, 
Edith, both you and he, and I pray that your wrong-doing 
may be thus working itself out.” 

“ I have thought so long. Aunt Margaret,” was the whis- 
pered answer, “ I look upon it as our penance, and patiently 
try to bear.” 

“Then you 'do rightly, child,” warmly replied Miss Bor- 
dillion. “ Take up your cross bravely and humbly, and it 


200 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


will grow lighter with each step; let it drag behind you in 
discontent and rebellion, and it will weigh yoli down. Be 
comforted, Edith; G6d will remove it in His own good time. ” 

• Wilfred Lester was speeding to the Hall. And who should 
answer his summons at the door but Tiffle! Of course it was 
not Tiffle’s place to answer doors: she was quite above it; but 
happening to cross the hall at the moment of the knock, she, 
in her curiosity, pulled it open. Her first impulse was a stare 
of unqualified surprise; her next, to place herself in his way, 
and prevent his entrance. 

^ “ Who might you want, sir?” 

^ “Mr. Lester — if it concerns you to know,” was the reply 
of Wilfred, as he attempted to pass in. “I see he is in his 
study.” 

“ Master’s pertikelarly engaged, and can’t see visitars,” ob- 
jected Tiffle. 

Wilfred Lester’s eyes flashed fire, and he raised his hand 
authoritatively. 

“ Stand aside, woman,” was the imperative command. 
“ You forget to whom you speak. This is my father’s house. ” 

Tiffle slunk out of his way, and he approached the study. It 
was a room on the ground-floor, whose window looked to the 
side of the house. Wilfred had caught a glimpse of him 
standing at it. He turned round when Wilfred entered, and 
his features assumed an angry expression. 

“ To what am I indebted for this visit?” he began. “ You 
were forbidden the house, sir.” 

“ I do not suppose my breaking the interdict will produce 
permanent injury to the house’s inmates,” somewhat inso- 
lently retorted Wilfred, who, what with Tiffle’s reception and 
now his father’s, felt chafed almost beyond bearing. “ I 
shall not infect it with ague or fever, nor yet with small-pox.” 

“ What does bring you here?” imperiously rejoined Mr. 
Lester. 

Wilfred coolly seated himself in the chair opposite that 
usually occupied by its master. 

“ Father,” he said, changing his tone, “ I have come to ask 
assistance from you. Our position can not be a secret: my 
wife is wasting away from want before my eyes; every availa- 
ble article is either pledged or sold, save Edith’s wedding-ring, 
and that I can not attempt to take; I have no clothes save 
these I stand up in; in short, we have eked out our resources 
until none are left to us. To-day I had a writ served upon 
me for £10, or nearly that, and my next move must be to a 
prison. Will you help me in my strait?” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


301 


“ You must be aware that you have brought all this upon 
yourselves/’ was the reply of Mr. Lester. “ What, save des- 
titution and embarrassment, could come of a marriage like 
yours?” 

Wilfred drew his chair a little forward, and leaned toward 
his father. 

“ You make a show of punishing me for marrying her; but 
do you blame me in your heart of hearts? Would not you 
have done the same in my place? Father, from my soul I 
believe that you would never have visited it upon me, but that 
you were incited to do so by Lady Adelaide. ” 

“ To the point,” briefly spoke Mr. Lester. “ State the 
purport of your visit, if you have any to state. ” 

believe I was not far from the point. However, 1 am 
here, I repeat, to ask you for assistance,” 

“ I can not give it.” 

“ I crave it as a favor. ” 

“I will not give it, I say,” tartly responded Mr. Lester. 

“ Then I must request it as a right. Yes, sir, and I must 
have it. You hold money belonging to me, I believe, money 
that by right of law ought to be at this moment in my hand 
instead of yours.” 

‘‘ Ho, I do not.” 

Wilfred felt a little staggered; but he rallied, convinced 
that Miss Bordillion had not misled him. 

“ Maria has her fourteen thousand pounds, to be paid to 
her on her marriage, you enjoying the interest until that 
epoch. I have in like manner twelve hundred, which passed 
legally into my possession when I became of age. Sir, it 
ought to have passed absolutely; it must do so now. ” 

Who has been giving you this information?” inquired 
Mr. Lester. 

“ That, I imagine, is of no consequence. ” 

“Hot much, certainly. I conclude it was Margaret Bor- 
dillion. The money — for to set the question at rest and save 
trouble, I will descend to explain to my rebellious son — was left 
to you, twelve hundred pounds, and the intention of the donor 
would appear to be, to a cursory reader, that you should come 
into the money at twenty-one. But the deed is so obscurely 
worded, that upon that point a question had arisen. I have 
taken counsel’s opinion upon it, and his advice is that you 
do not come into it until my death.” 

Wilfred paused a few moments before replying. 

“ And what of Maria’s? That she does not come into hers 
until your death?” 


202 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“ About Maria’s there is no question. The clauses are dif- 
ferently worded. ” 

“ Where’s the will? In Doctor’s Commons?” next spoke 
Wilfred. 

“ The money was not left by will. It was a deed of gift.” 

“ Where’s the deed, then?” pursued Wilfred. 

Mr. Lester pointed with his finger to a small iron safe which 
had stood in his study as long as Wilfred could remember. 

‘‘ It is there,” he said. 

“ You Will allow me to peruse itr’ 

‘‘ Indeed, no,” said Mr. Lester. ‘‘ I think I have satisfied 
you pretty well, as it is. Your perusing it could answer no 
end;" it is obscurely worded, as I now assure you, and the opin- 
ion of counsel was that you could not touch it till my death. ” 

“ Other counsel may be of an opposite opinion,” persisted 
Wilfred. “ It would be but fair to allow me to submit it, in 
my turn. ” 

“ And to what good?” asked Mr. Lester. “ Were your 
counsel’s opinion adverse to the one already consulted, what 
of that? You could only prove which was right by an action 
at law, and I believe you have no funds to sustain one. I 
tell you openly that I shall not part with the money until 
death compels me.” 

“ Is this justice?” 

‘‘ It is law.” 

“ Once convince me that it is law, and I will urge the point 
no more,” said WiKred. “ Suffer me to read over the deed.” 

“I have told you no,” said Mr. Lester. “ The deed is 
there, safe and secure,” motioning once more to the iron 
safe, ‘‘ and I will not disturb it. Our interview is over. I 
can not give you any assistance; and I desire that you will not 
intrude here again. ” 

Wilfred rose from his seat in amtation. ‘‘ Will you drive 
me to a prison? Will you allow Edith to die? Look here,” 
and he snatched th^ writ from his pocket, “ for this paltry ten 
pounds, I must go into one; will you not, at least, pay that?” 

Whether Mr. Lester would have relented, with the unpleas- 
ant scrap of paper placed palpably before him, it is impossible 
to say. Before he could speak, the door was flung open, and 
Lady Adelaide sailed in. 

She did not look at Wilfred. She passed him with scorn, 
picking up her dress as she swept by, but she spoke to Mr. 
Lester. 

“ They told me your son was here, but I did not believe it. 
Mr. Lester, can you allow his presence? — and by so doing 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


203 


make light of parental disobedience in the sight of your young 
children 

‘‘ He is not here by my will; he entered the house against 
it. I have already told you to depart/^ he added, looking at 
Wilfred. 

‘‘ I wait for my answer/^ said the latter, still showing the 
writ, y Will you help me out of this?^^ 

‘‘ Neither out of that, nor anything else,' ^ irascibly respond- 
ed Mr. Lester, whose temper did not appear improved at the 
implied contest between wife and son. I tell you the inter- 
view is over.^^ 

Wilfred put the writ in his pocket; and turning on his heel, 
departed, bowing to Lady Adelaide — a bow so low> so elaborate, 
that she might well have deemed it offered in irony. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE KIGHT INTERVIEW. 

As Wilfred Lester was striding home from the unsatisfac- 
tory interview, he met Miss Bordillion and Maria. Walking 
by their side, having just overtaken them, was Mr. Lydney. 
To say that Wilfred was in anger, would not be conveying half 
an idea of the actual rage that possessed him. • He was lit- 
erally foaming with passion; it was boiling over and bub- 
bling out from every pore; the presence of Lydney — a stranger 
— he ignored as completely as though he had not been there; 
and burst forth with all his grievances, chiefly addressing Miss 
Bordillion: 

“I am kept out of it — I am to be kept out of it! The 
money is mine, safe enough; twelve hundred. pounds, as you 
said; and he .coolly assures^me he has had counsePs opinion, 
and I can not claim it till his death ! The deed is obscurely 
worded, he says; and when I ask to read it over: no; he denies 
it, though it was in the very room. If there^s justice in 
heaven — 

“ What are you speaking of, Wilfred?^^ interrupted Maria, 
who had turned crimson, but was now growing white. 

I told him Edith vvas dying of want; I told him I was go- 
ing to the dogs, and should soon be in prison, raved Wilfred, 
never so much as hearing his sister. Look here;'^ — dashing 
the writ out of his pocket — I positively lowered myself to 
show him this, and beg of him, like any mendicant, that ho 
would help me over this stile! But no; my wife may die, and 
I may go to jail and rot there., It^s nothing to you, Maria; 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


204 

nothing that you need worry yourself over,^^ he broke off; for 
she was evincing painful curiosity to look at the paper; it^s 
only a cursed writ for ten pounds. 

“ Must you pay it?^^ she shivered. 

‘'Must I pay it?^'’ echoed he, turning ironically to Miss 
Bordillion. ‘‘ Must I pay ten pounds, she asks, when I have 
not ten pence; no, nor ten farthings. Perhaps you ^11 tell me 
how I am to pay it?^^ he chafed, to Maria. 

“ Wilfred, when you do give way to these outbreaks of tem- 
per you are so impetuous that there^s no getting you to speak 
reason or to hear it, said Miss Bordillion, who had not been 
able until then to put in a word edgeways. “ Do be calm, if 
you can, and tell me what it is that Mr. Lester says about the 
deed.^^ 

“ He says the deed is obscurely worded, and that I can not 
claim the money till his death. He taunted me — yes, it was 
nothing less — with my wings being clipped, so that I could 
not go to law with him. And he is right, stamped Wilfred; 
“ they are clipped. 

“ I never heard the slightest doubt expressed but that you 
came into the money at twenty-one, spoke Miss Bordillion. 
“ I am quite certain that such was the intention when the 
deed was made. Mr. Lester should have a,! lowed you to read 
it for your own satisfaction. 

“ He had better not drive me to extremities,^^ foamed Wil- 
fred, “or I will break the safe open and take the deed. 
^Twould be no theft. 

“Wilfred! Wilfred pleaded Maria, “you don^t know 
what you are saying. 

“ Not know! I should say a vast deal more, but that you 
are present. But it is not my father, he added, in an altered 
voice; “it is that false woman, who is ever at his side to set 
him against his first wife^s children. It may come home to 
you yet, my Lady Adelaide. 

Without further colloquy, vouchsafing no adieu, Wilfred 
Lester strode away. Miss Bordillion, possibly not liking him 
to escape in that mood, or wishing to soothe him, followed 
quickly in his steps, leaving Maria and Mr. Lydney alone. 

“ I will be back directly,'’^ Miss Bordillicn hurriedly said. 

They were in a retired path, near the entrance of the wood, 
and Maria began pacing it backward and forward slowly. Mr. 
Lydney turned with her and remained by her side. He saw 
that she was greatly agitated — that even her lips were white. 

“ It had been more to the purpose, possibly, that I had fol- 
lowed your brother, than Miss Bordillion,'’^ he observed. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


S05 


‘‘ I am grieved, I am annoyed that these painful family 
affairs should be brought under the notice of a stranger, 
spoke Maria, half in vexation, half in apology. 

“I should be very sorry if I thought you considered me now 
in that light,^^ he warmly uttered. “ I was in hopes, I be- 
lieved, you did not. " 

‘‘ In truth you are right, Mr. Lydney,^^ she said. “ When 
I look back and remember how very short a period it is that 
we have known you, and then consider the (I may say it) al- 
most confidential terms upon which we meet, I am lost in sur- 
prise. I think,” she added, with a smile, “either you or 
ourselves must have displayed great forwardness.^^ 

“ Not so. Miss Lester. There are some people who only act 
upon us as repulsive elements, whom we never can like, never 
can unbosom to — no, not though we were thrown into do- 
mestic contact with them for years. There are others who 
are mutually attracted at the first glance, who know that they 
have found kindred spirits, objects worthy of esteem and 
trust; it does not, require long for intimacy to grow up be- 
tween these. Let me prove myself deserving of your friend- 
ship, your confidence; hesitate not to speak unreservedly to 
me of your brother. From what I gather — ^for it is conversed 
of openly in Danesheld — he is at the present time in some 
straits. 

He bent his handsome form toward Maria, and a flush rose 
to her face. It may have appeared to her that there was 
help, protection, in that manly figure of strength — it had 
long appeared to her that there was perfect truth to be found 
in that earnest face. An irresistible attraction had drawn 
Maria to him from the first — an attraction, not less irresistible, 
prompted her now to acquiesce in his last words. 

“ That Wilfred and his affairs are freely spoken of in Danes- 
held is, I believe, only too true, Mr. Lydney; and it is noth- 
ing but what must be expected. I should think no son of 
good family — heir, as he ought to be — was ever reduced to the 
plight that Wilfred is.-^^ 

“ He is the heir, is he not?^^ 

Maria shook her head. 

“ Danesheld Hall is not entailed, and papa can, if he pleases, 
make one of his younger children his heir.^^ 

“ Would that be just?” 

“ Shamefully unjust,” answered Maria, her face in a glow. 
“Oh!” she added, with emotion, “I can not tell you how 
miserable I am! I could sacrifice myself to bring comfort to 
poor Wilfred. When I think of his trials, his uncertain pros- 


206 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


pects, and know that they are not deserved, my heart seems 
as though it would break with grief and pity, for I am help- 
less to aid him. And when I remember his thoughtless im- 
petuosity, coupled with his keen sense of injury, I dread, I 
dread — hardly know what I dread. ” 

‘‘ You dread that, smarting under privation and unmerited 
wrong, he may be drawn into some escapade not precisely 
fitting for the heir of Squire Lester.” 

Maria glanced quickly up at him, and he bent his truthful, 
sympathizing eyes upon her. In that moment she became 
aware that he knew and was then thinking of the disgraceful 
rumors which were abroad to Wilfred’s prejudice. An in- 
stant’s struggle with her feelings, which ended in her strug- 
gling no longer, and she burst into tears. 

William Lydney drew her hand within his. 

‘‘ Have faith in me,” he whispered. “ Leave him to me: I 
will be his friend in every way that I possibly can; and will 
try, all that man can try, to keep him from harm. ” 

“ I see you know — I see you have heard,” she stammered, 
in much distress. ‘‘ My days and nights are passed in fever- 
ish dread. If any — any— disgrace fell upon Wilfred, I think 
I should die. I have so loved him! I have so looked up to 
him! Mamma died, papa was estranged from us; we had only 
each other to care for. ” 

“ Trust to me,” he fondly reiterated, as he pressed her hand 
between both of his, and then released it, for Miss Bordillion 
was discerned returning in the distance. 

Leaving Maria, giving a passing word of greeting to Miss 
Bordillion as he passed her, Mr. L3^dney sped after Wilfred. 
The latter had not entered his house, but had halted near it, 
and was moodily leaning against a stile that led into the wood. 
Lydney laid his hand on his shoulder, and rallied him in a 
gay tone. 

“ Shake off dull care and send it packing. What is the 
matter?” 

‘‘ The matter? that’s good! When a fellow’s out at elbows 
and out at heart, out of friends and out 'of help, there’s 
enough the matter. I’m hard-up in every way; and, by Jove! 
I don’t care who knows it, for the shame’s to others, not to 
me. ” 

“ A man never yet deserved friends and help but he found 
them,” returned Lydney. No need to be out of heart.” 

‘‘ Tush!” was the chafed response of Wilfred Lester. 

“ If I am cognizant of some part of your grievances, you 
must thank yourself for speaking of them before me a few 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 207 


minutes ago; and must pardon my thus reverting to them. 


“ I don^t care who knows of them, I say/^ impetuously in- 
terrupted Wilfred. “ I^d mount a public rostrum and pro- 
claim them with pleasure; for the shame, I tell you, lies with 
others. Still, I don^t see any good in your recurring to the 
subject. 

“No good at all, unless I could help you out of them, which 
I dare say I can do, if you will only behave like a reasonable 
being. Lester, ” he continued, earnestly, something very like 
emotion checking liis free utterance, “ I owe my life to you; 
but for your brave exertions, that awful night, I should have 
been gone and forgotten. You saved my life at the risk of 
your own. It is a debt that I can never repay, but you can 
lessen my sense of the obligation,^if you will, by allowing me 
to be your friend, by treating me as a brother. 

“What now?^^ asked Wilfred, staring at him. “As to 
risking my life — it’s not so joyous to me that I need care to 
I^rolong it. ” 

“ Suffer me to be to you what a brother would be if you 
had one. You are wrongfully kept out of money. I have 
more than I know what to do with. Let me be your banker.” 

The red color flushed into the cheek of Wilfred. He hesi- 
tated some moments before he spoke. Mr. Lydney resumed: 

“ Borrow of me, as one chum would borrow of another — as 
I dare say you and I have both borrowed before now, when 
out of cash. You can repay me, you know, when things come 
round again.” 

“ They never may come round again,” answered AVilfred; 
“ you’d probably be done out of it forever, if you lent money 
tome.” 

“ Eubbish! You’ll come in for it some time; and plenty 
of it. How much will you have?” 

“ Are you serious in this offer?” demanded Wilfred, after 
looking keenly ^t him. 

“Serious!” returned Lydney, “ what do you mean? Is it 
anything so very great that you should doubt, or hesitate?” 

“ Then you are a goqd fellow, Lydney, and it’s more than 
anybody else has done for me. I’ll take ten pounds, to get 
rid of this cursed writ. ” 

“ Nonsense about ten pounds! You must take some for 
yourself, as well as for the writ. ” 

“ No more, no more,” uttered Wilfred Lester, the crimson 
flush again dyeing his face. “ Save me from prison, and I’ll 
thank you; but I want none for myself.” 


208 LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

Mr. Lydney looked him full in the face, and spoke in a low 
tone. 

“ For your wife’s comforts, then.” 

“ No,” persisted Wilfred, “ those who have brought us to 
this, upon their heads shall the consequence be. I will not 
accept from a stranger what it is the duty of others to per- 
form.” 

That he was unmistakably in earnest, and meant to be, Lyd- 
ney saw; so he urged that point no further then. And the day 
passed on to its close. 

Brightly and clearly shone out the evening star; brightly 
and clearly, if less large, crept out its sister stars, shedding 
their refulgence over Danesheld, lighting the path of Lord 
Dane, as he, remembering the interview that was to take 
place between Lydney and tjie poacher, walked from the Cas- 
tle to take up his station in the wood and overhear it. His 
lordship, to give him his due, was above acting the eavesdrop- 
per in general, but he was most anxious to find out all he could 
regarding Lydn^, and burning to punish those troublesome 
poachers. That Lydney was really an impostor, a loose char- 
acter, and had now joined the fraternity, he entertained little 
doubt. To imprison the whole lot for two years would have 
delighted Lord Dane. 

“ Good-night to your lordship.” 

The saluter was the inspector of police, who was passing on 
horseback, and Lord Dane nodded in reply to the greeting, 
and continued his way. The next moment, however, he 
wheeled around. 

“ Halloo, inspector! Any news of the box?” 

“ Not yet, my lord,” was the reply, as the officer turned his 
horse sideways. “We shall have the bills out to-morrow, and 
I hope they may do something.” 

“ Bills?” echoed Lord Dane. 

“ Offering a reward, my lord. They would have been 
posted this afternoon, but Mr. Lydney, called -^Jiis morning and 
stopped it. He had his reasons, he said, for not allowing them 
to appear till to-morrow. It must be a valuable box to offer 
a thousand pounds reward. ” 

“ Who does offer it?” burst forth Lord Dane, in astonish- 
ment. 

“ Mr. Lydney has given us authority. If the box is in ex- 
istence still, that will bring it forth.” 

Lord Dane paused ere he spoke, one thought was chasing 
another in his brain. 

“ Inspector, take care you are not done, I know more of 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


209 


this Jjydney aud his doings than I did when I spoke with you 
last; he has got a thousand pounds to pay just as much as 
that horse of yours has.” 

“ My lord, he said freely that the box was none of his, and 
that the reward would come from the pocket of the owner; 
not from his own. I inquired who and what he was — this 
Lydney — but could obtain nothing satisfactory in reply. He 
protested that he was of English descent, and of good family, 
but would give no particulars.” 

Lord Dane drew nearer the inspector, and resumed in a low 
whisper. The man’s head was bowed to his saddle-bow, as 
he bent t® catch it. 

‘‘ He’s in league with the poachers; I am on my way now 
to track their meetings in my own preserves. I was a witness 
to it last night, and heard the rendezvous made for this, made 
between Ben Beecher and Lydney. That’s your gentleman of 
family! your thousand-pound man!” 

My lord, is it possible?” uttered the inspector. 

“ I told you I suspected the fellow from the first,” resumed 
Lord Dane. “ He is now showing out in his true colors. Don’t 
you be gulled, inspector. He may have made off with the box 
himself, as 1 hinted — stolen it! and he^goes to you with this 
munificent thousand-pound tale, to put you off the scent. ” 

Lord Dane turned and pursued his way as he spoke, and 
the inspector, after a pause, given to thought, urged his horse 
on his way. His lordship posted himself in his hiding-place in 
the wood, snug and safe. 

Lydney was at the place of meeting first — I mean before 
Beecher. The latter came along in a joyless, dispirited sort of 
way, as though he had not good news to bring. 

“ It has been no go, sir,” was his salutation, to Lydney, 
and Lord Dane’s ears were strained to their utmost capacity, 
so sure was he of discovering treason. The box has not been 
lifted.” 

No!” uttered the gentleman, in an accent of keen disap- 
pointment, for somehow he had fed himself with the hope that 
at had been “lifted,” and would be restored through Mr. 
Beecher. “ Have you ascertained to a positive certainty?” 

“ As certain as that you and I are here, sir. J saw the right 
men, and I can assure you they know nothing whatever about 
it. Their opinion is that it was took into the Castle. Right 
glad they’d have been to get the fifty guineas, and we’d have 
shared it among us. You’d have had your box this night, sir, 
if they could help you to it. ” 

Lydney paused to revolve the news. 


210 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 

“ Would a higher reward bring it forth?” he presently asked. 
Not if you offered a bank-full — not if you offered a thou- 
sand pounds/’ answered Beecher, little thinking that he named 
the very sum to be announced on the morrow. What they 
haven’t got, they can’t give up — and ‘they’ve not been a-nigh 
it at all. They think you must look for it in the Castle. ” 
AVhat reason have they for thinking that?” 

“ Well, I don’t know that they have got much reason, but 
it’s their opinion. Sharp cards they are, too, and their opin- 
ion’s worth having, sir. For one thing, they say that if the 
box had been smuffed, they should know it.” 

‘ ‘ But Lord Dane says it is not in the Castle, l^ore than 
tliat, 1 hear he had the Castle searched by the police, every 
nook and corner of it, and there was no box. ” 

“ Has Lord Dane any interest in hiding or detaining the 
box, sir?” 

“ Why?” 

“ Because — not that I insinuate he had, nor have I reason 
to think it — there’s places in the Castle where things may be 
put away, and where the eyes of the police, though they were 
sharpened up by a dozen magnifying telescopes, would never 
find ’em. I was a-talking to old father about it. Says he, 
‘ If my Lord Dane wanted to keep that box in hiding, he could 
do it fast enough in the Castle. ’ Tales go, sir, though they 
may not be true, that years ago, one of the Lord Danes, who 
was at his wits’ end for cash, went snacks with some smug- 
glers, and the booty used to be deposited in the secret places 
of the Castle. ” 

How did my Lord Dane’s ears like being regaled with that 9 
There’s a very popular proverb which runs in this fashion: 
“ Listeners never hear any good of themselves.” 

“ And if, by chance, the box should have been consigned to 
^ny one of these secret places, how-^ who’s to get it?” in- 
quired Lydney. 

“ Why, it will never be got as long as the Castle’s a castle 
— at least as long as my Lord Dane’s its master,” returned 
the poacher. “ There’s not many, sir, would choose to brave 
Lord Dane.” 

“ A martinet, when crossed, I suppose,” carelessly remarked 
Mr. Lydney. 

“ Like all the rest of the Dane family. The old lord was a 
stinger, if thwarted; and his eldest son would have been^ worse, 
had he lived to reign. Captain Dane was hot, too; but* gener- 
ous.” 

“ I have heard him, the captain, spoken of since I came to 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


211 


Danesheld/ ’ observed Mr. Lydney. “ Did he not fall over the 
clifi? or was thrown from it?” 

“ It was not a simple fall, sir. He was scuffling with another 
man, and was no doubt pitched over. Danesheld regretted 
him much, and all the more when tidings came of his eldest 
brother’s death. We should have liked the captain to reign 
over us. Why, Eavensbird — the very man you are lodging 
with — was his servant. ” 

“ Indeed! With whom was Captain Dane scuffling?” 

“ It’s what has never been found out, sir, from that day to 
this. Eavensbird was took up for it; but it wasn’t him, and 
that was proved. And then there was a talk of a packman; 
but he couldn’t be discovered. No, it has never been found 


out. ” 


There was a pause. Mr. Lydney broke it, his voice ringing 
out unusually sonorous and clear in the night air. 

“ The present Lord Bane — Mr. Herbert, as I hear he was 
called then — was he suspected?” 

“ My heart alive, no!” returned the poacher. “ Whatever 
made you suspect him, sir?” 

/ suspect him!” echoed Mr. 



don’t run away with a wrong 


toward him. Had I been in Danesheld at the time of the oc- 
currence, and of an age to reason, it is an idea I might have 
taken up. He was the one to benefit by Captain Dane’s 
death.” 

But, when the thing happened, Mr. Dane, the eldest son, 
was alive. Captain Dane was no more the heir to the prop- 
erty, at the time of his death, than I was: in fact, he never 
was heir at all, for he died before his brother.” 

‘‘ And Mr. Herbert was no^ suspected?” 

‘‘He was not suspected,” answered Beecher. “Though 
that brings to mind that a chap which I’d rather not name, ^ 
declared he saw Mr. Herbert on the heights at the time of the 
accident, or murder — whichever it was. But he was three 
sheets in the wind, and we made him hush his tongue. ” 

“ Why make him hush it?” 

“ Who’d charge such a insinuation against a Dane — though 
it ms only Mr. Herbert? Besides, what should he want, at- 
tacking his cousin? No, ’t wasn’t likely: and we made the 
chap cork up his chatter."^’ 

Who was ‘ the chap ’?” continued Mr. Lydney. 

“ Well, I don’t know that it matters telling; it’s all over 
and done with. ’Twas my brother, sir.” 

To describe how Lord Dane in his hiding-place clinched his 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


m 

fists at the audacious Lydney, and would have liked to pom- 
mel him as he deserved, would be a^ task for a strong pen. 
The latter continued, totally unconscious that he had any lis- 
tener, save Beecher. 

“ Could you give me an idea where these secret holes are 
in the Castle?’’ 

“No, that I couldn’t, sir, and I don’t know that there 
really are any: it may be all bosh. I’ll ask father again.” 

“ Do so. And—” 

The speech was interrupted by a shot, fired not far from 
them. Beecher opened his ears. 

“ That shot’s a ruse to deceive the keepers: they are not at 
work so low down as this. It was within an ace of being hot 
work last night; but the keepers got help and came out in 
numbers, and we made a run for it. ” 

“ What pleasure can you find in this wild, lawless life?” 
remonstrated Lydney. “It is full of^danger.” 

“ A spice of danger gives zest,” returned the man. 

“ A spice may. But when it comes to exchange bullets, and 
battered heads, and broken limbs, thg^t is rather more than is 
agreeable.” 

“ One must live, sir.” 

“ Every man, who tries to live honestly, may live honestly: 
and—” 

“ Not when he has been at this sort of work all his life. 
Who’d trust him then? or help him to honest labor?” 

“ I would, for one,” returned Mr. Lydney. “ If a man 
who had stepped aside from the straight path, turned to it 
again, and set himself in a proper way to be what he ought to 
be, there’s all the more respect due to him.” 

“Ah, well, sir; talking’s one thing, doing’s another. I 
wish I could have found your box; that would have helped 
some of us on.” 

“Keep a lookout still: it is not impossible but you may 
hear of it. There’s for the trouble you have already taken,” 
he added, putting a piece of gold in his hand. 

“ I’ll tell you what it is, sir. If we had always had such 
people as you to deal with us in this Danesheld, we shouldn’t, 
many of us, have gone wrong. Thank you, sir, and a hearty 
good-night to you. ” 

The man moved quickly away; Lydney more leisurely fol- 
lowed him; and, last of all, emerged Lord Dane, wiping his 
brows like a man in a hot consternation. 

“ A pretty devil’s plot these fellows would like to set 
afoot 1” quoth he; “ secret places in the Castle, and all the 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


213 


rest of it! If ever a man deserved hanging, it’s that traitor 
Lydney. The whole set of poachers are angels compared 
with him.” 


CHAPTER XXL 

AK ENCOUNTER WITH SHAD. — TURNED FROM THE HALL. 

Outside the police-station, and on every available place 
where bills could be stuck, appeared notices of the loss of the 
japanned box, with the offer of a thousand pounds reward for 
its restoration. The offer took Danesheld by storm, and the 
crowds that were wont to collect, wherever one of these bills 
appeared, staring at the offer and making their comments, 
quite impeded the foot-traffic. The days, however, nay, the 
weeks, and the months went on, and nothing came of it; no 
box turned up, and the reward was still unclaimed. The po- 
lice felt inclined to adopt Lord Dane’s opinion; that Lydney 
himself had got the box, and that the reward never would be 
called for. 

The depredations on Lord Dane’s preserves went on alarm- 
ingly, and apparently with impunity. Whole dozens of game 
were bagged, the poachers seemed to enjoy their full swing, 
and the keepers were balked, night after night. Lord Dane 
was losing patience, and felt inclined to offer a thousand pounds 
reward to catch them. Heartily indeed would he have given 
it, could Lydney have been entrapped with them. That Lyd- 
ney was occasionally seen by Lord Dane, in the wood with the 
poachers, at any rate with one of them, Beecher, was beyond 
dispute; and perhaps few in Danesheld but would have sub- 
scribed to Lord Dane’s opinion of his worthlessness for judg- 
ing of him. 

Meanwhile, at Wilfred Lester’s cottage domestic matters 
appeared to be going on rather more comfortably. Sarah, by 
some cajoling process of her own, the secret charm of which 
she would reveal to neither master nor mistress, had contrived 
to obtain a little renewed credit for meat and other necessa- 
ries. Mrs. Lester would sigh and trouble herself as to when 
they were to be paid for; her husband evinced that utter in- 
difference to future consequences which is sometimes born of 
despair; had Sarah pledged his credit for hundreds, it seemed 
the same to him. A most bitter feeling had seated itself in his 
heart against his father, touching the deed and the money 
withheld from him; at first he had been loud and noisy; vow- 
ing revenge, vowing to obtain possession of the deed by some 


214 


LADY ABELxllDSl’s OATH. 


desperate means, but of late he had buried his wrongs in^ 
silence, and spoke of them no more. In his former loud 
flights of temper the only one to remonstrate against them to 
his face was Lydney; Edith dared not. 

One frosty morning in December, Maria, in taking the 
wood-path to Miss Bordillion^s, encountered Lydney; somehow 
or other they often did encounter each other; but to which lay 
the fault, whether to him or to her, or to the two mutually, 
can not be said. That a powerful attachment had sprung up 
between them, there was little doubt, though as yet it had been 
spoken of by neither. Danesheld was that morning alive with 
commotion, for an encounter had taken place the previous 
night between the keepers and poachers in which the former 
were worsted, and the latter had got off scot-free. It was said 
that Lord Dane was foaming. Maria almost sprung to Lyd- 
ney when she saw him, asking if he had heard the news. 
That she was trembling with an inward fear, a dread to which 
she dared not give a shape, her agitated manner proved. 

‘‘ I heard of it hours ago,^' he smiled, as he took both her 
hands in greeting. 

“ Do you know — do you know ” — ^it seemed that she could 
scarcely get the words out — “ who were in it? what men?’^ 

“ No. Various rumors are afloat. I believe I could men- 
tion one fellow; but it^s no business of mine. I saw him 
sneaking into the wood, under cover of the dark night, as I was 
going to your brother’s, where I spent the evening.” 

Maria’s countenance visibly changed, and her lips parted 
with suspense, as she listened. 

“ And what Mrs. Lester will say the* next time she sees me 
I can not anticipate,” he continued, not unobservant of Maria’s 
varying cheek. ‘‘ Will you believe that I was so devoid of all 
conscience as to stay there till one in the morning, keeping 
Wilfred from his bed?” 

She could dissimulate no longer. Her lips turned white, 
her eyes became wet, and she faltered out tale-telling words 
in the moment’s emotion. 

Oh, is it true? Are you sure you were with him?” 

He pressed her hands warmly, bent low, and whispered, 
with a beaming smile : 

“ I never tell you anything but truth; believe me, I could 
not do so. Maria, it is all right, there is no cause for agita- 
tion. I was with Wilfred, at his own house, till one o’clock 
in the morning; we got into a discussion, and the time slipped 
on unwarily. The encounter with the poachers took nlace at 
half past twelve.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 215 

“ How kind you are!^^ she exclaimed, in the sudden revul- 
sion of feeling induced by the news. 

‘‘ In what way?^^ he laughed. “ Kind for telling you this, 
or for keeping Wilfred up shamefully, and running the risk of 
Mrs. Lester^’s displeasure?^^ 

“ Kind in every way, I think, she answered, her face radi- 
ant. But for you — 

Mr. Lydney raised his hand with a warning gesture, and 
Maria looked round in surprise. Clearing some feet with a 
bound, he sprung upon young Mr. Shad, who had been twined 
round a tree in his usual attitude, listening with all his ears. 
He drew him forth by the hair of his head. Shad yelling un- 
mercifully. Maria said farewell, and walked quietly on, leav- 
ing the capturer and captured. 

‘‘You sneaking young varmint!” uttered Lydney; “so I 
have caught you again at your tricks! How many times does 
this make? Now, what shall your punishment be? I wonder 
if I could get you a week or two^s wholesome recreation on 
the treadmill?” 

At the last suggestion. Shad only yelled the louder; and in 
the midst of the noise up came Tiffle, who was going into 
Danesheld, and generally chose the wood-path when she did 
so, though it was the longest round. She took in every point 
of the scene with her sly eyes, but suffered not her tongue to 
betray it. 

“Well, if I ever heard such a noise !^^ quoth she. “I 
thought it must be some young panthier let loose. And who 
is it? It’s something like Granny Bean’s Shad.” 

“ He’s a-going to kill me! he’s wanting to whack me! he’d 
a-like to pull up my har by the roots!” shrieked Shad. “ Tell 
him to let me go.” 

“ Let him go, please,” said Tiffle to Lydney. “ I’m sure 
you’re too much a gentlemin, sir, to ill-treat a poor little weak 
boy. ” 

Tiffle essayed to pull him from Mr. Lydney, as she spoke, 
but Mr. Lydney put her away. He had not attempted to beat 
Shad : only held him tight. 

“lam not going to touch him now,” he said to Tiffle: “ I 
have no cane with me; but, so sure as I catch him dogging 
my footsteps, or Miss Lester’s, again, so sure will I inflict 
proper chastisement upon him. You came up opportunely, 
Mrs. Tiffle.” 

“ To prevent the beating?” 

“No: to hear my promise. The next time you give him 
orders to track me, or your young lady, remember that ho 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


2U 

shall certainly suffer for it, if he attempts to put your behests 
in practice. That you merit the punishment shall not avail 
with me: he shall get it.” 

“ Oh!” screamed Tiffle, with a great show of indignation, 
“ what treasonous words is these? 1 give him orders to track 
people! what have I to do with him? Am I a perlice walker?” 

You have more to do with him than people suspect, and 
in more ways than one,” was his significant retort, as he turned 
round and looked full in Tifile’s face, which suddenly became 
the color of scarlet. ‘‘ Now, my good woman, set him to 
watch me again!” 

He quitted hold of Shad with a gentle shake, and proceeded 
on his way, in the opposite direction to that taken by Maria. 
Tiffle regained her composure, as she best might; but the scar- 
let of her face turned white with rage, and she shook her fists 
after hi?p, and panted forth: 

“ I vow ITl be revenged on him for this?” 

“ I know what,” criS Shad. “ I saw him at the wood last 
night, just after the row. He’d been in it, I think.” 

“ Where did you see him?” eagerly cried Tiffle. 

“ He was a-coming up the road, t’other side the wood. I 
see him with my two eyes. The clocks was a-striking one.” 

“ Did you see Will Lester?” returned Tiffle. “ Was he out 
with ’em?” 

“ I didna see him. He might ha’ been there, though, and 
this un ha’ been to take him home, for ’twas close to Will 
Lester’s where I see him. I ha’n’t seen Will Lester, this 
morning, nowhere: may be, he’s wounded.” 

“ What did that divil set upon you now for?” 

“ Cause I were a- watching him and Miss Lester, and he 
twigged me,” returned Shad. “ I never see such a keen eyes 
as he’s got. He had laid hold of her two hands and was a- 
hugging of ’em. ” 

Keep the sharpest lookout on him you ever kept in your 
life. Shad,” were the concluding words of Tiffle. “ Poke and 
peer about the woods forever, especially after dark. That 
Lydney’s a big cut-throat in disguise, and we’ll pay him off. ” 

Vowing vengeance upon the whole world in her anger, and 
upon Lydney in particular,' Tiffle pursued her way. She had 
executed her commissions in the town, and was returning, 
when she met Lord Dane. She had had plenty of time to 
cool; but to cool down from an evil spirit was not in Tiffle ’s 
nature: she remembered the sovereign bestowed upon her by 
his lordship, and the words he had used; and she stopped him 
now. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 217 

“ Well, Tiffle, and how are you?" — for, when Lord Dane 
chose, he could be affable and condescending to the lowest. 

“I'm none the better, my lord, craving your pardon, for 
the dreadful tales of last night's blood that every shop you go 
into loill tell. Is it true, my lord, that one of the keepers, was 
cut in half?" 

“ Not quite," replied Lord Dane, checking a laugh. “ He 
is wounded in the ribs. I wish I could lay my finger on the 
man that fired at him. " 

“ My lord, I think it's as likely to have been that Lydney 
as anybody," responded Tiffle, dropping her voice. “ I have 
good information that he was one of them. " 

“ Have you?' ' eagerly returned Lord Dane. “ Where? how? 
— how did you get it?" 

“ One that's safe and sure saw him just outside the wood 
at one o'clock this morning. And where could he have been 
to, my lord, at that place and hour, but a-j'ining in the fray? 
If you could get him transported, my lord, it would be a 
provadinshil mercy for Danesheld and for Miss Lester." 

“ Ah," was the only answer of his lordship. 

“ She's a-getting inthrilled by him, my lord; as safe as my 
name's Tiffle. Not a day passes but he's at our house, with 
master, or with my lady, and of course sWs present. And 
then the private meetings out-of-doors!" added Tiffle, turn- 
ing up her eyes. “ They were in the wood together not half 
an hour ago, her two hands squozed in his as if he were her 
lovier. " 

Lord Dane's face grew black as night. Tiffle did not pur- 
sue the subject: she left her shaft to tell. 

“And they do say that Mr. Wilfred Lester has not been 
seen abroad yet, my lord. It's to be hoped he's come to no 
harm : though I did hear a insinivation that he was wounded. " 

She shot a rapid glance out of her cat's eyes at Lord Dane, 
then meekly dropped them, courtesied and turned away. 

It is probable that Lord Dane would not so far have forgot- 
ten his courtly manners as to speak to Maria on the point of 
Tiffle's information touching herself but that he was betrayed 
into it in the angry heat of the moment. His road led him 
past Miss Bordillion's house, and seeing Maria leave it on her 
way home, he increased his pace and overtook her. He raised 
his hat, a pleasant smile on his comely face, and, joining her, 
walked by her side. 

“ Maria," he began, “ when am I to be favored with my 
answer? Do you not think I have waited long and patiently?" 


2ia 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


Maria’s heart beat, though her spirit sunk within her. Was 
he going to enter again upon that subject? 

“ I really beg your pardon,” she stammered. ‘‘ I do not 
understand.” 

“Not understand that I love you?” he rejoined, his tone 
one of the sweetest tenderness. “That my days are passed 
in one long dream — the hope to call you my wife? In truth, 
Maria, my patience has been sorely put to the test; let the sus- 
pense come to an end. ” 

“ But indeed you could not have misunderstood me. Lord 
Dane,” she replied, in agitation. “ I told you months ago 
this could never be. I have no other answer to return. I 
thank you very much for your good opinion, but I can not be 
your wife.” 

“ Tell me why you would reject me, ’’he said, after a pause. 

“ There is no particular reason, except — except — that I do 
not care for you sufficiently to become your wife, ” she hesi- 
tated. 

“ Do you deem that it would be an inexpedient alliance? 
Or do you fear I should not make you a good husband?” 

“ I never glanced at either point. Suffer the subject to drop. 
Lord Dane.” 

He looked at her with a winning smile. 

“ It can never drop until you are mine, Maria.” 

“ But indeed it must,” she answered, “ for yours I can not 
be.” 

“ Have you seen your brother this morning?” he resumed. 

“My brother? No.” 

“ Nor have heard, possibly, this rumor touching him. That 
he is wounded. ” ^ 

Had Maria been shot with one of the random shots from 
Dailesheld wood, it could not have had much greater effect 
upon her than these words. The whole of her heart’s blood 
seemed to leave her, and she turned to him with quivering lips 
that refused utterance. 

“ It may not be correct,” he continued, “ but the report is 
certainly abroad. Maria, this is no hour for squeamishness: 
your brother ought to be got away from here. If he is not 
hurt now, it will be sure to come ere long. ” 

“ I wish he was away,” she cried, betrayed out of her self- 
possession; “ but where is he to go?” * 

“ If you did not treat me so cavarlierly, Maria, I would soon 
fi nd him a post. I have one at my disposal now : at least my 
interest would secure its being bestowed where I please. It is 
under Government, and would be the very thing for AVilfred, 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 219 

until better times comes round for him. It is nearly a sine- 
cure; the pay eight hundred a year. 

Marians brain began to whirl. Eight’ hundred pounds a year 
on the one hand, absence from Danesheld and his grievances, 
home-comfort for him and Edith! On the other, poverty, 
starvation, a continuance of the awful dread, companionship 
with his dangerous associates, perhaps disgrace, a public trial, 
or Tcillcd in some midnight encounter! She turned her lovely 
face, crimson now with excitement, on Lord Dane. 

“ Oh, will you not interest yourself and give it himr’^ 

“ Willingly. If you will interest yourself with yourself iov 
me.^^ 

It was a cruel alternative. Maria walked on in silence, 
and began revolving all he had said. 

Who informed you he was wounded she whispered. 

“ I heard it. 

I do not think it can be true. Mr. Lydney told me he 
was with him till one o^clock this morning; the time flew 
unwarily, he said.^^ 

A strangely derisive smile curled the lips of Lo^d Dane. 
Maria knew not why, but she shrunk from it. 

“I do not doubt it,^^ he significantly observed; ‘‘I think 
it extremely probable that he was with him till that hour. 
Birds of a feather — but I should be sorry to class Wilfred 
Lester, with all his faults and imprudences, with a man of 
Lydney ^s stamp. 

Mr. Lydney is a gentleman, she returned, in a low voice. 

“ Allow me to ask what proof you have of that: whose 
testifying word? Maria, it is time your eyes were opened. I 
hear from various points Miss Lester^ s name coupled with Lyd- 
ney^s — that they are seen abroad in company, that they appear 
on intimate terms of friendship. This very morning they were 
walking in the wood together, the young lady^s hands in his: 
and Danesheld is ringing with it. 

She turned her face in its hot scarlet upon Lord Dane, her 
eyes flashing, her tongue indignant. 

“ And what though I was in the wood conversing with Mr. 
Lydney? It is a public path, open to all the world. Let 
Danesheld concern itself with its own business, but not with 
mine. My conscience is pure. Lord Dane: I met Mr. Lydney 
accidentally, as you might meet him, and I have done nothing 
unbecoming to a lady. 

I did not mean to reproach you, Maria, and I spoke but 
out of regard for you. I can not bear to hedr of the future 
Lady Dane being brought into contact with a — ” 


220 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


‘‘lam not the future Lady Dane/^ she burst forth. “ I 
never will be.^^ 

“ Perhaps you would prefer to be the future Mrs. Lydney/^ 
he rejoined, unable to suppress his sarcasm. 

Again her face grew scarlet, but she made no retort 

Lord Dane resumed. 

“ Maria, let us have done with this playing at cross-sticks' 
with each other. If you will not allow me to speak to you as 
your future husband — though that will come — let me speak as 
your true friend. Lydney— mind, Maria, I am only asserting 
what I know — ^is here under false colors. He parjides himsefi 
as a gentleman, he has obtained admission in that character to 
the best families, he has made himself intimate with you. 
Will you believe that almost from the very first I have known 
him to be an associate with the worst characters here, sharing 
in their pursuits, poaching on my preserves with them? He 
tells you he was with Wilfred Lester till one o^ clock this morn- 
ing; I say that it is more than likely; for it has been whispered 
to me that Lydney was one of those engaged in the attack last 
night. . 

She felt utterly confounded. Strange doubts and fears 
assailing her at all points; but she had faith in Lydney. 

“ It is not possible,^ ^ she gasped. “ All that you say of him 
can not be possible. And it was at Wilfred^s own house that 
he was last night. 

“ Understand me, Maria. With regard to last night, I as- 
sert nothing positive; for, of his movements then, and Wil- 
fred^s, I am personally ignorant. It has been told to me that 
he was in the wood, it has been told to me that your brother is 
wounded: both may be false, for aught I know. But when I 
tell you that he is the associate of bad characters, and that he 
frequents the wood at night with them, I speak of my own 
positive knowledge. Is that a man to be intimate with Miss 
Lester?^^ 

Maria was hard of belief, and she spoke resentfully. 

“ If you have known this, as you say, from the first, why 
have you not stopped his visits to the families of the neighbor- 
hood?^^ 

“ I have my reasons for not speaking too soon, and the 
police have theirs. My gentleman is being watched, and the 
time will come, I believe shortly, when he will be dropped 
upon and denounced. Private friendship would have led mo 
to interfere, but as lord-lieutenant I have public duties to con- 
sider. The time is not yet come, I say. He made a show of 
offering £1000 reward for the recovery of the box — 




.T 


^ LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 221 

“ He never said it was himself offered it: he was but acting 
for the owner,” persisted Maria. 

“ Be it so. But whether for himself or owner, he was safe 
in offering it, seeing tftat the box is most probably in his own 
possession, and has been from the time it was lost.” 

“ Who asserts that?” flashed Maria. 

‘‘ It is a suspicion — not an assertion. We can not come to 
any other conclusion. ” 

At that moment Wilfred Lester came in view, walking as 
well as he ever walked in his life, with no sign of a wound 
about him. He did not stop, but passed them with a nod. 
Maria turned triumphantly to Lord Dane. 

“ You see! All the other assertions may be false as this.” 

“ False! Thank you, Maria. I passed you my word that 
with regard to Lydney’s pursuits and associates they were true. 
I did not answer for last night’s doings. Can you have faith 
in him still?” 

“ It seems to me that I can never lose my faith in him,” 
she replied, in a low tone, as though she were communing with 
herself. 

Lord Dane threw up his head with all the hauteur of a Brit- 
ish peer, and he bit hiftjips with vexation. That he was very 
greatly prejudiced against Lydney there was no question; still 
he did believe him to be an unworthy character. 

Danesheld Hall was in view, and Maria entered. Lord 
Dane also entered, and proceeded to the study of Mr. Lester. 
He there confided to Mr. Lester what he had never done be- 
fore — his suspicions of Mr. Lydney; and strenuously urged 
that he should be treated as an impostor and turned from the 
Hall. 

He appears to me to be a thorough gentleman — a gentle- 
man in all respects,” was the reply of Mr. Lester, who felt 
considerably astonished and staggered at the communication. 
“ If what you say be correct, the fellow must have the impu- 
dence of — ” 

“ It is correct,” interposed Lord Dane. “ Do I not tell you 
I have watched him myself, been a witness to his night assig- 
nations in the wood, his confederacy with the poachers? ^ I 
have had my reasons for keeping this close, and the police 
have also theirs. Neither must it be made public now, unless 
we would defeat the ends of justice; but I confide the facts to 
you that he may have no further opportunity of working more 
mischief at the Hall?” 

“ He certainly shall not be admitted here again,” remarked 


222 


LADT ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


Mr. Lester. But as to past mischief — ^you go too far. Lord 
Dane. What mischief has he brought to the Hall?” 

“ He has tried at it, unless I am greatly mistaken,” signifi- 
cantly returned Lord Dane. “ He has* contrived to establish 
a pretty good understanding with Maria, out-of-doors and in : 
and young ladies often prove more susceptible to the fascina- 
tions of a stranger than to the sterling qualities of old friends.” 

Very indignant, indeed, felt Mr. Lester at the hint: not in- 
dignant against Lord Dane, but at the presuming intruder, 
Lydney. He, however, repudiated the insinuation touching 
Maria. Lord Dane smiled. 

“ These fellows, who come into a neighborhood for what 
they can pick up, are just the sort to draw a young lady into 
mischief: I mean such mischief as a secret attachment, and 
then a marriage. Fancy what a windfall Maria’s fortune 
would be to this man ! and you know, were she to marry with- 
out the previous arrangement regarding the money, you would 
be compelled to hand it over. ” 

Mr. Lester stood as one thunder-struck. This view of the 
case had never struck him before, and he began to rail at him- 
self for his blindness. Sneaking covertly after Maria, that he 
might grasp her fortune? Of course he was! it was all plain 
now. The perspiration broke out over his face like pease. 

You had better persuade her to become Lady Dane with- 
out delay,” said his lordship, quietly, “ and so secure her from 
harm. You would retain the money, and I should gain a 
wife whose happiness it would be my daily study to promote.” 

“ She shall be your wife before the month’s out,” foamed 
the disturbed Mr. Lester. 

Lord Dane quitted the Hall, and it happened unfortunately 
that Mr. Lydney almost immediately called at it before Squire 
Lester’s indignant fears had had time to cool. He rusjied out 
and met him as he entered; and, with many needless words of 
insult, ordered him to quit the house again. 

“ What has occurred? what have I done?” demanded the 
amazed Lydney, while the raised tones of Mr. Lester’s voice 
brought forth Lady Adelaide and Maria. 

“ 1 condescend to no explanation, sir,” was the retort of 
Mr. Lester. “ Only take yourself off, and never presume to 
attempt crossing the threshold of my house again: you have 
crossed it too much.” 

“ But you will first accord me an explanation of this treat- 
ment,” persisted Mr. Lydney. 

‘‘ There’s the door, sir,” stormed the squire, waving his 
hand to the open door, which the servant held. “ If you do 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


223 


hot depart instantly I shall order my domestics to put you 
forth/^ 

A moment^s communing with himself, and then the young 
man turned to obey. But he first raised his hat courteously 
to the Lady Adelaide, who had stood the image of consterna- 
tion, and walked forth — not as one cowed by merited insult, 
but with a lordly step and head erect, his whole air and bear- 
ing that of a chieftain, from whom insult recoiled. 

Maria shivered, crept up to her own room, and burst into a 
flood of passionate tears. 


CHAPTER XXIT. 

A CONFUSED PLOT. — THE APPAEITION IN THE RUINS. 

Lord Dane was not one to do his work by halves. If he 
could not publicly proclaim his suspicions of Lydney^s ill- 
doings, or if he did not choose to do so, he yet determined to 
damage his reputation as far as possible. The most welcome 
news to his lordship would be to hear that Lydney had been 
driven from the place: perhaps he hoped to help on that de- 
sirable consummation. Upon quitting Squire Lester^s he bent 
his steps to the Sailor^s Rest. Ravensbird was alone in the 
bar, reading a newspaper : he rose up when his lordship en- 
tered. 

“I want three minutes^ conversation with you, Ravens- 
bird. 

The man bowed, led the way to the parlor, and handed a 
chair to Lord Dane, remaining himself standing of course. 

‘‘ How much longer do you intend to harbor that fellow 
Lydney? 

I^m sure, my lord, that^s more than I can say,” returned 
the landlord, who could take questions as coolly and literally 
as most folks, even from Lord Dane. “ It^s his business; not 
mine. He^ll stop on at his pleasure: as long as he pays his 
bill, I have nothing to say against it."^^ * 

“ Ho, Ravensbird, he will not stop at his pleasure,” re- 
turned Lord Dane. ‘‘ I am here now to desire you to turn 
him out. ” 

“ Upon what plea, my lord?” asked Ravensbird. 

‘‘ Give any plea you choose to him. The one I give to you 
is — that it is my pleasure. ” 

“ My lord, I can not put forth a gentleman in that fashion; 
one who conducts himself as a gentleman, and pays his way. ” 

‘‘It must be done. I insist upon it,” said Lord Dane. 


224 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


“ I beg your pardon, my lord. Not by me.^^ 

“ The fellow is an impostor, a man given to nefarious 
courses; he consorts with the poachers, and trespasses on my 
preserves at night. But, mind, Eavensbird, this is for your 
private ear alone, and I know you can be secret when you like. 
He has wormed himself into the social circles of the best fami- 
lies here, and may work incalculable mischief. Is that a man 
for you to continue to harbor?” 

“ What he may do out-of-doors, I know nothing of,^^ per- 
sisted Eavensbird; ‘‘I see nothing wrong in him, and have 
heard no wrong. In-doors he conducts himself as a quiet, 
well-behaved, honorable gentleman, and that^s all I have got 
to do with.” 

You are my tenant, Eavensbird, and you must do as I 
wish you.^^ 

“ My lord, I am your tenant, but I pay you rent for your 
house, and am master of it. In taking the Sailor^s Eest, I did 
not part with my responsibility of action. I should be happy 
to oblige your lordship in many ways, but to turn a harmless 
gentleman (as far as I see) from it is what I canT do. ” 

“ Say you wonT, Eavensbird.” 

‘‘ Well, my lord, ITl say I wonT, if you prefer it,” answered 
the man, though with every token of civility and respect. “ If 
this young Mr. Lydney behaved himself ill under my notice, it 
would be a different thing.” 

Lord Dane regarded Eavensbird with a haughty stare. 
The man met it equably. 

“ I fancy you can not understand, Eavensbird. He has 
come here to engage in bad practices, therefore he must be 
hunted out of Danesheld. The police might do it for him, 
and save trouble, but he seems to take precious good care not 
to give tangible grounds. He"s a sly one, depend upon it, and 
he must be got out of the place. ” 

“ All well and good, my lord, if it can be done; but I am 
not going to join in getting him out. ” 

“ Do you remember a certain clause in your lease, which I 
caused Apperly to insert, when you entered upon this house?” 
demanded Lord Dane. “ It was to the effect that, should cir- 
cumstances induce me to retake the house upon my hands, you 
must give up possession, and quit it at my pleasure. 

“ By your lordship ^s giving me six weeks^ notice,” inter- 
posed Eavensbird. 

“ Good. If you are to fly in the teeth of my requests in 
this manner— and it is the first, I believe, that I have made to' 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


you — you stand a chance of getting that clause acted upon, 
Mr. Ravensbird.^^ 

“As your lordship pleases, of 'course, was the sturdy 
answer, while Ravensbird looked full in the face of the peer. 
“ I should be sorry to leave the house, for it suits me, and I 
earn a living; still, there are other tenements to be had in 
Danesheld. Perhaps your lordship will give it some reflection, 
before you compel me to quit this.^^ 

Marked independence, nay, more, marked meaning, was in 
his tone. Lord Dane passed from the subject to another. 

“ You have heard of this outrage in my woods last night. 

“ As all Danesheld has, my lord.^^ 

“ AVhat do you personally know of it?^^ 

“ Not anything, said Ravensbird. “ What should 

“ Ravensbird,^^ proceeded Lord Dane, bending his head for- 
ward, and speaking in an under-tone, “ I could bring the 
officers of justice into this house now, and give you into cus- 
tody on. suspicion of having been concerned in it.-’^ 

“ Because I ‘ harbor ^ Lydney — it is your lordship ^s expres- 
sion — and you suspect him of being connected with the poach- 
ers?^^ asked Ravensbird, with some freedom. 

The two stood gazing at each other — for Lord Dane had 
risen, and now faced his tenant. It was his lordship who 
broke the silence. 

“ Last evening — it must have been near ten o^clock, not 
very long before the affray took place — I saw you in the wood, 
with one of the worst of the men, Ben Beecher. Hand in 
glove with him, pacing the thicket with him, your hand upon 
his shoulder! I saw you myself, Ravensbird. 

“ I was there with him,^^ quietly replied Ravensbird. 

“ It is a cool assertion. 

“ I had a little private matter of business with Ben Beecher: 
and I went to the wood, hoping to find him and to transact it. 

I did find him, and was with him the best part of half an 
hour, and then I left him, and came back home. That^s the 
simple truth, and the whole truth, my lord. Had I known 
there was likely to be a fight in the wood, I should not have 
chosen last night to go there. I take part in a poacher^s con- 
flict! You know better than that. Lord Dane.^’’ 

“ Yet you have been accused of a worse offense in your 
day,^^ cried his lordship. 

A strangely significant smile played over the lips of Ravens- 
hird. He raised his eyes full on Lord Dane. “ I may be 
publicly cleared of that suspicion yet, my lord, by the real 


226 liABY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

offender being brought to light. I have reason to think I shall 
be.” 

“ What reason?” inquired Lord Dane. 

“ A belief in the divine laws of retribution and of justice.” 

“ Can you tell me the nature of your business with Ben 
Beecher?” 

“ I have said, that it was private, my lord.” 

Lord Dane took up his hat. “ It seems that I have met 
with little satisfaction in coming here this morning. Consid- 
ering that you were once servant in my family, Bavensbird, I 
have an idea that it might behoove you to treat my wishes with 
more compliance.” 

A tinge of color flashed into Ravensbird’s dark face. I 
was servant to the Honorable Captain Dane, I was not servant 
to Mr. Herbert.” Lord Dane put his baton his head and 
walked out, Ravensbird attending him to the door. 

“ By the way,” cried his lordship, wheeling round, is that 
other man gone? I mean the old passenger, who was likewise 
saved and brought here,” he added, seeing that Ravensbird 
looked puzzled. 

“ He has not gone, my lord; he has not found himself well 
enough to go. But he is getting better now. ” 

“ Does he not go out?” 

“ He has never once been out of his room, let alone the 
house, your lordship. He is waiting for remittances, he says.” 

‘‘ Ah! mind you donH feed him all this while, and then not 
get paid. How quiet he must keep himself! I never hear it 
mentioned that there is such a person in the place. What 
does he do all day?” 

Sits and coughs,’ and reads the newspapers.” 

“ What’s his name?” 

‘‘ When he first arrived Sophie asked it, and he answered 
that it was no business of hers. But I saw his medicine came 
in directed to ‘Mr. Home.’ He was so ill at first we were 
obliged to call in Doctor Green.” 

“Home? Home?” debated his lordship: “ don’t know the 
name. ” 

He marched up the street, and Ravensbird turned in-doors 
again. Certainly the man behayed more cavalierly to I.ord 
Dane than any other of his dependents would have presumed 
to venture upon. The wonder was that his lordship put up 
with it. 

It was growing dark that same evening — that is, it may have 
been near upon five o’clock — when three men met under cov- 
ert of the thick wood. Later, with last night’s remembrance 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


227 


upon them, they would not have dared to be there: a few days 
must elapse, ere they grew bold again. They deemed them- 
selves alone; but, trailing flat with his belly on the ground, 
serpent that he was, lay young Shad, listening — not to plans 
for another battue on the pheasants, but to as nefarious a 
scheme of housebreaking as was ever concocted. Shad had 
not yet been promoted to assist at great crimes; and his hair 
rose up on end, as he listened. AVhat, with his personal fear 
(for Shad fully believed that if any untoward accident betrayed 
his proximity he should be riddled through with bullets), and 
what with the low tone the men conversed in. Shad obtained 
but a partial hearing of the plot. The chief part that he made 
out was, that Dane Castle was to be broken into, and the 
plate “ bagged. 

Waiting till the men dispersed — for he did not dare to move 
until they were gone — Shad rose up, and tore along at the top 
of his speed till he gained the s23ot where he was in the habit 
of waiting for Tifile. But no Tiffle was there. She probably 
had been, and was gone; for it was near eight o^clock. Shad, 
with all his cunning, was at fault: he scarcely dared to ap- 
proach Mrs. Lester^s, which Tiffle had always strictly forbid- 
den, but his tongue was burning to be delivered of its secret. 
He stole across the intervening space, and gave a timid knock 
at the back door. 

“ If you please, ma^am, can I speak a word to Mrs. Tiffle?^^ 
cried he, as a kitchen-maid answered it. 

The girl went to the housekeeper’s room, where Tiffle was. 

“ Mrs. Tiffle’s wanted,” cried she. “It’s Cranny Bean’s 
Shad.” 

An unwelcome announcement in the presence of her fellow- 
servants, and Tiffle jumped up. 

“ Granny Bean’s Shad!” uttered she, in apparent amaze- 
ment. “ He can’t want me: it must be a mistake.” 

She flounced through the back passages of the house to its 
outside, and there, sure enough, stood Shad. Her first im- 
pulse was to treat him to a good shaking. 

’ Don’t you begin upon me, then, till you’ve heered,” 
whined Shad. “ I shouldn’t a-come a-nigh, but you warn’t 
at the place. I’ve been a-hearing murder, and it made my 
bones sweat to listen.” 

“ Hearing murder!” ejaculated Tiffle. 

“ They’s a-goiiig to break into the Castle,” resumed the 
boy, “ murder Lord Dane, and fork the plate. I heered ’em 
say as there was hundreds of ounces kep’ in the big chest, and 
they’d bag it all, while t’other was a doing the business,” 


228 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


To give Tiffle her due, her badly disposed mind was more . 
intent upon working petty ills and aggravations to her 
species than great crimes. Murder, certainly, bore as much 
horror for her as it does for most people: and she clasped 
hold of young Shad in aifright, and bade him speak intelligi- 
bly, and relate all he knew. 

“ It were them three, Drake, and Ben Beecher, and Bill 
Nicholson, Ben Nick's brother," said Shad, “ and I've been 
a-lying ever since dark a-listening to 'em, with my nose in the 
frosty ground, and afraid to draw a breath. I couldn't make • 
out all they said, but I made out enough: and they be a-going 
in for the Castle plate and to murder Lord Dane. " 

Did you hear them plan his murder?" i 

No, but look you here," said Shad, who did not want for j 
brains, though it was convenient to let it appear to the world j 
in general that his head ran short of them. 'I^hey talked < 
about the plate; and to hear of it was good to make 3 "our ’ 
mouth water, spoons, and waiters, and tea-pots, and things; but ] 
'tain't the plate as they's chiefly a-going in for; I made out | 
that much. They said, while the business was a-being done, 
two or three of 'em could go and rifle the plate-chest, and no- 
body be none the wiser. And I says to myself as I listened, \ 
what is the business, if it's not the robbing the plate-chest? ’ 
It must be to murder his lordship." i 

Not an improbable conclusion for Shad to arrive at. Tiffle | 
arrived at the same. ^ 

“ How many more was to be in it, besides them three?" ^ 
asked she. | 

I dun know. They said two or three of 'em 'ud fork the -J 
plate while the business was a-being done, so there'll be more 
in it nor them. I heard 'em speak of Lydney once, and then ■ 
the rest said. Hush! and after that they called him ‘ L.' I'd 
lay that white doe rabbit of mine, what's at granny's, as he is 
to be in it." ; 

Tiffle's eyes sparkled at the information, but before she ^ 
could reply, one of the footmen, who had been out on some - 
private matter of his own, came up to the back door. fl 

“ V/hat, is it you, Mrs. Tiffle, out here? Why, you'll catch 1 
cold. And young Shad, as I'm alive!" 3 

“ Come to beg a drop of my linerment for Granny Bean's 
rheumitix," responded -Tiffle to the servant. “ The last time J 
I gave her some it cured her in no time; her back's a'most J 
double to-night, he says. Here, Shad, give me the bottle, and 
I'll bring it out to ye." | 

4-gi*oaning with it awful, granny was// whined Shad, J| 


/ 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


239 


quickly taking his cue; “ and please, ma^am, I haven't got no 
bottle. I come cutting along fast, feeling for granny, and fell 
over a stone and broke it." 

“ What a careless boy you must be!" returned Tiffle: “I 
suppose I must find one. Wait there." 

She followed the footman in-doors; but only to return and 
finish her conversation with Shad. The boy dismissed, she 
prepared to go out herself. Lady Adelaide, with Mr. Lester, 
was dining abroad, so she had no leave to ask. 

Her proposed visit was to Lord Dane. Apart from Tifile's 
shock at the contemplated murder in itself, it put a stop 
(should it be carried into effect) to certain ambitious visions 
which Tififle had recently, and more especially that day, been 
indulging a hope might grow into realities. -Tiffle had cast 
her covetous eyes on the Castle, hoping to slip in as its house- 
keeper, either through favor of Miss Lester, should she become 
Lady Dane, or through the favor ^f Lord Dane himself, did 
he remain a bachelor. Of course, were the thread of his lord- 
ship's life to be severed by any such summary process, Tiffle 
visions must fade into air. 

Lord Dane was seated alone in his dining-room — the great 
dining-room that the reader has seen before. Miss Dane had 
retired, but he sat yet over his wine. The rays of the chan- 
delier fell on the gittering table, on its beautiful service of 
sparkling crystal. Briiff entered. 

My lord, a person is asking to see you. It's Lady Ade- 
laide Lester's maid. " 

“ To see me?" returned his lordship? “ What, Tiffle?" 

“ Yes; Tiffle, my lord. 1 told her your lordship was at 
dinner, but she wished me to* bring word that she h^d come 
for something important." 

“ A message from Lady Adelaide, possibly," carelessly re- 
marked Lord Dane. “ Let her come in." 

Tiffle appeared. Lord Dane had turned his chair to the fire 
then, and she advanced and stood near him. Bruff dejDarted 
and shut the door. 

‘‘ Oh, my lord! the most wicked plot!" she began, throwing 
her bonnet back in her flurry, and putting out her hands. 

“ The Castle's going to be rifled, and your lordship murdered 
promiskeous in your bed." 

“ What!" uttered Lord Dane, wondering whether Tiffle had 
turned crazy, and evincing a very powerful inclination to 
laugh. “ You can sit down, Tiffle: you seem a little excited." 

“ My lord, it may sound like ridicul, but its gospial truth," 
returned Tiffle, taking the chair offered her. “ Them three 


230 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


with a cough. 


men have been a-plotting of it in the wood — Bill Nicholson, 
and Drake, and Ben Beecher; and one overheard ’em as is 
sure and safe, and he come and imparted of it to me. Lydney 
is to be with them, it’s pretty apperient, for his name was 
mentioned once, but they said. Hush! and afterward called 
him only‘L.’ And they spoke of rifaling the plate-chest 
while the business was done — the business object that they 
break in for, my lord — and that, you may be sure, is no other 
than the murdering of you. ” 

Lord Dane, uncertain still whether there might be anything 
in the tale, or whether Tiffle really had lost her senses, made 
her go over the whole of it circumstantially. It comprised all 
she had heard, and some she had not heard, for Tiffle’s news, 
like many other persons’, was sure to increase in the telling; 
she repeated it all. 

“ Was it you who heard this fine plot?” 

‘‘ Me, me lord! As if I should be prowling in the wood at 
night, a-hazarding of my^epetation!” 

“ Oh, of course not,” said Lord Dane, 

“ Who was it, then?” 

“ I couldn’t impart that to your lordship.” 

“ Then you had better not have imparted the tale. I sup- 
pose it was some — some” — his lordship was rather at a loss 
for a word — “ beau of yours.” 

‘‘ Indeed, then, no!” was Tiffle’s nettled rejoinder. “I’ve 
had enough of them sort of vanaties, and had rather keep ’em 
at arm’s-distance.” 

“ Well, as it appears that something may be in it, at any 
rate there’s sufficient doubt to induce some sort of preparation 
against the possibility — ” 

“ Some sort of preparation!” interrupted the alarmed Tiffle. 
“ Preparation against it must be made, my lord, or you’ll 
have the catastrify for certain.” 

“ Just so!” said Lord Dane. “Therefore it is necessary 
that all points bearing upon it should be imparted to me. Tell 
me, in private, who this hearer was, and he shall come to ho 
harm, nor you- either. Otherwise, I must call in the aid of the 
police, and you must be publicly examined to-niorrow before 
Squire Lester. ” 

This would not have suited Tiffle at all : quite the contrary. 
Yet she was awake to the common-sense view of Lord Dane’s 
argument, and to the necessity of his knowing all. 

“ It’s not that he could come to harm, my lord, or that 1 
have any motive to conceal it, such as you might fancy,” she 
resumed, “But the one that heard it is useful to me; he 


LADY ADELAIDP/S OATH. 231 

looks about for me, unsuspected, and brings me news; and if 
it was once known he did so thereki be good-bye to it — for 
folks would be on their guard not to speak before him. Til 
tell your lordship, if you^d let it be quite private from every- 
body else; indeed, you might see him for yourself.^' 

“ Agreed,^' said Lord Lane. 

It was Granny Beanes Shad.^^ 

“ Granny Bean’s Shad!^^ he uttered, looking at her. “ Why, 

I every second word spoken by that boy is a barefaced lie. 

I Tiffle bent her face close to Lord Lanek; he had never seen 
' it so earnest, so little savoring of deceit. 

‘‘ That Shad will tell you the truth in tliis, my lord, Ikl an- 
swer for it with my own life. He has less faults than folks 
think for, and he darednH play the fool with me.^^ 

“ Ikl see him,’^ said Lord Lane as Tiffle rose to withdraw. 
“ When do you say the attack is to be made:^'’ 

“Not for three nights for certain; and then none was 
named. They were waiting for something, though Shad could 
not make out for what, unless it is for the moon to go. An- 
other thing he only half heard: those ruins were mintioned. 
He thought perhaps they were going to meet in them and plot 
further. 

“ What ruins? quickly asked Lord Lane. 

“ The chapel ruins opposite, replied Tiffle, extending her 
hand in the direction. “ They may be there now at this very 
moment for all we know.^^ 

“ Tiffle, called out his lordship, as she was gliding from 
the room with her usual stealthy step. “ Not a word of this 
abroad, remember. And caution that Shad.^^ 

“ He's safe, my lord; and you may rely upon it I donk ejict 
another syllible from my lips. It’s in your lordship’s hands 
now, and out of mine. ” 

Lord Lane remained in a reverie after her departure, and 
then strolled out of the Castle. That an attack was being 
contemplated he entertained no manner of doubt, though he 
did not take precisely the same view of it that Mr. Shad and 
Tiffle had adopted. He felt surprised; for, loose in character 
as the three men mentioned had hitherto been regarded, tak- 
ing their full delight in poaching, smuggling, and similar ad- 
ventures of a venial nature, or what are looked upon by many 
as venial, they had never attempted great crimes, and Lord 
Lane felt convinced that some master head-piece was urging 
them on. 

He stood outside the Castle gates still thinking, taking little 
notice of a female form approaching from the direction of 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH:. 


m 

Danesheld. But the female came close up to him and com- 
pelled his attention; he recognized the cloak and bonnet of 
Tiffle. 

“ Back again I cried Lord Dane. 

“ I have abtained a little more ividence, my lord/^ was 
Tiffle^s rejoinder, “ and thought you^d blame me if I didnH 
return with it. When I came the first time, I sent young Shad 
with a lantern to search for the place where them smugglers 
had been, thinking it not impossible but they might have 
left some token behind "’em; for when folks hold a meeting in 
the dark, and things slip from their pockets or their hands ! 
they’re diffacult to be picked up again. Shad was back before 
I was, and he brought this. ” 

She held out a scrap of paper to Lord Dane, and he exam- i 
ined it by the light of the lamp which illumined the gate-way, 
paying Tiffle the compliment, as he took it from her, that she ; 
would have made a first-rate detective. 

It proved to be part of a note; and Lord Dane read the fol- 
lowing words: 

“ — impossible to join you to-night, but to-morrow you may 
expect me without fail. 

“W. L.” 


It appeared to have been written hastily on a long narrow 
bit of paper, and then twisted up. The direction, if there had 
been any, had gone with the first part of the contents. 

“Now I can take my Bible effidavit that that writing is 
Lydney’s,” cried Tiffle, when Lord Dane had looked at it. 

“ I have seen his handwriting at our house upon pieces of ’ 
music, and I saw a note of his to Miss Lester. ’Twas only a 
line or two about a book, but it was that very self-same hand- : 
writing, and I’ll stand to it, my lord, with the very same ' 
autigriff at the end of it, ‘ W. L. ;’ which is the short for his ■ 
name, William Lydney.” J 

“ Where did Shad find this?” ^ 

“ Close upon the very spot where they’d been a-plotting.” v 
“ Why did you not bring Shad up, as you dropped upon ^ 
him?” i 


“ Shad’ll come to-morrow morning and ask for you, my 
lord, as you ordered. ’T wasn’t likely I was going to bring 
him to the Castle myself, and set your detainers a-wondering 
and talking, ” was the reply of Tiffle. 

She took her final departure; and Lord Dane, after consign- 
ing the paper to his pocket-book, fell into another reverie. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


233 


That Lydney was an out and out villain he was beginning to 
believe, and his angry eye flashed at the thought that he had 
been admitted to the intimacy — perhaps gained the love — of 
Maria Lester. Before him stretched out the sea, broad and 
wide, not that he could see much of it from where he stood; 
on his right were the lights of Danesheld; and on his left the 
chapel ruins. The moon was high in the sky, and flickered 
her light upon those picturesque ruins as she had done many 
a time before — upon the green walls, the several apertures. 
Lord Dane turned his eyes toward them. 

Singular to say, he had never once been inside those ruins 
since his return from abroad, in fact since his accession to the 
title; nay, it may be said since the period of his romantic love 
for the Lady Adelaide. Many times had he passed them since 
then, walked round them, stood near them; but it happened 
that either by design or accident he had not gone inside. He 
bent his steps thither now, his mind full of Tiffle's surmise; 
the plotters might be there at that moment for aught he knew. 

Lord Dane crossed the greensward, crisp with frost, crossed 
it as stealthily as he had ever stolen to his appointments with 
Adelaide Errol; for it was not his intention to pounce upon or 
surprise the men, but to listen to them.. He had his own rea- 
sons for suffering the plot to go on to the very hour appointed 
for its execution. Once inside, he halted,"' looked about, and 
kept his ears open. Nothing appeared to have changed; there 
were the faint remains of the altar, the traces of the graves, 
the ghostly looking windows and the moss-covered stones; all 
looked as ’it had looked in those years gone by. 

It appeared to be entirely void of human life; if any plot- 
ters were there they remained still and silent; and that none 
were there speedily became apparent to Lord Dane as he paced 
about. His thoughts began to revert to the past; and soon, 
growing oblivious of the present, to the lapse of years, to an- 
noying plots, and to Maria Lester, the past was alone before 
him. He was dwelling on Lady Adelaide'’ s beauty, on their 
mutual dream of sentimental passion, on her strangely sud- 
den desertion : and from that topic his mind naturally revert- 
ed to tlie tragic accident which had cost the life of Henry 
Dane almost on the very site where he then stood. 

The latter was not a pleasant subject to indulge in, with the 
ghostly looking ruins around, the grave-stones beneath, and 
the pale white moonlight above; and Lord Dane, middle-aged 
man though he was getting, British peer though he was, began 
to find that he was not totally exempt from the sport of super- 
stitious fancies. He turned from the altar where he had been, 


234 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


standing to make the best of his ^yay out, when at that mo- ) 
ment a form rose up in the window aperture nearest him and , 
remained silent, watching him, it seemed, in the moonlight. 

A half-smothered cry broke from Lord Dane's lips, his hair . 
stood on end, and his flesh crept. 

Yes they did, lowering to him as you may deem the asser- 
tion. It is true that Lord Dane had been thinking of his 
cousin; and imagination, especially superstitious imagination, 
plays curious tricks. As he stared at that figure in the 
aperture, its extraordinary resemblance in form to the dead 
man struck upon him; bestrode to the window, separated only 
by the wall, and stood face to face — face to face with him who 
was once Harry Dane. The once-familiar features stood out 
pale and clear in the moonlight, far too clear for Lord Dane 
not to recognize them. It was then he uttered the smothered 
cry, and his hair bristled up from his brow. 

He fell back involuntarily. He leaned against the decayed 
wall to recover himself. He remembered who and what he 
was, a man and an Englishman; shook himself, stepped to the 
entrance and passed out at it. That he had seen his cousin's 
spirit — a ghost, as it is familiarly called — was his undoubted 
conviction, little as he had hitherto believed in ghosts, given 
to ridicule the fancied seers of them, as he had been. 

It had vamshed. Nothing was to be seen outside. Lord 
Dane strode round the exterior of the ruins, but the ghost was 
gone, "leaving no trace behind. 

No trace save in the physical disturbance of Lord Dane. 
Again the superstitious feeling came creeping over him, the 
dread that the dead was hovering near; and he positively start- 
ed full pace to the Castle, quickly, and perhaps as conscious 
•of terror as Lady Adelaide had run, shrieking, that eventful 
night. Bruff was standing in the gate-way as his lord entered, 
and turned in amazement to look at him; for in the starting 
eyes, the panting lips, and the livid features, the man could 
scarcely recognize those of Lord Dane. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE DETECTIVE EKOM SCOTLAND YAED. 

A TELEGRAPHIC dispatch went up to London in the course 
of the following day. It was sent by Lord Dane, and received 
by the head police-office in Scotland Yard. On the morning 
after, Bruff informed Lord Dane that a gentleman — a stran- 
ger — was at the Castle asking to see him. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


235 


As the reader may surmise, it was one of the chief detectives 
come down in obedience to the demand of Lord Dane. He 
bore about him no outward signs of his profession; was in 
plain clothes, and a free-speaking, agreeable man — one who 
had received a liberal education, and was well read. His name 
was Blair. Miss Dane, meeting him in the corridor, scanned 
him with her critical eyes — critical when single gentlemen were 
in the way — and inquired privately of her brother who he was 
and whether he was married. To the latter question Lord 
Dane at hazaixi answered, “ Yes;^^ to the former he carelessly 
said something about “ banking firm,^^ private affairs,'"^ 
‘‘ money matters. Miss Dane, who was a great gossip, forth- 
with favored the household with the information that Mr. 
Blair was one of his lordship's town bankers come down on 
money business. And thence the news penetrated to Danes- 
held. He remained on a visit at the Castle. 

After breakfast, which Lord Dane partook of with him in 
the library, came the conference. Mr. Blair was put in pos- 
session of the facts already known to the reader — of the ship- 
wreck, of Lydney's being saved from it, of the recovery of the 
box, and then its loss; of Lydney's suspicious association with 
the poachers, his frequenting the wood, of his having been seen 
in it or close to it at the hour of the late conflict with the 
keepers; of his having wormed himself into the confidence of 
the neighboring families, especially of Squire Lester's, and 
his supposed covert designs on Miss Lester and her fortune; 
and lastly came this projected attack on the Castle to which 
Master Shad had been a listener, and of which Lydney was 
no doubt prime mover. Lord Dane threw open the whole 
budget. 

Mr. Blair listened in silence. 

When is the supposed attack to take place?" was the first 
question he put. 

‘‘ Better be prepared from to-night, inclusive. The boy 
said not quite immediately." 

‘‘ And — if I gather your lordship's wishes rightly — ^you 
would prefer the attack not to be prevented; but that the light- 
fingered gentry should be caught in the act?" 

Precisely so.. The neighborhood shall be rid of this pest 
Lydney; therefore it shall go on to the attack. I am sorry 
for the other men, and would have spared them if I could, but 
there's no help for it, and they must share the penalty. They 
have been too fond of helping themselves to hares and pheas- 
ants, and of setting my keepers at defiance, also of doing a lit- 
tle private business in the smuggling line; but they would no 


2U 


LA-BY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


more have ventured to plan such a feat as this than I should. 
Lydney has drawn. them into it.” 

“I scarcely follow your lordship yet,” mused Mr. Blair. 
“ By this lad’s account — Shad, or whatever you call him — 
robbery appeared to be a secondary consideration; the clear- 
ing of the plate-chest is to be effected while the real object — 
‘ the business ’ — is transacting, and this business a murderous 
assault on your lordship. How have you incurred Lydney’s ill- 
will that he should plan so diabolical a crime?” 

“ I have given you Shad’s version — I should rather say the 
conclusion he jumped to,” returned Lord Dane, “ but 1 have 
not yet given you mine. I do not believe that any assault 
upon myself is contemplated. I believe they would be only 
too happy that I should sleep undisturbed through the proceed- 
ings, and wake up to find them and the plate safely off. ” 

“ But you have said the plate is not the principal object,” 
again pursued Mr. Blair. 

“ Neither is it,” returned Lord Dane. “ I believe that 
Lydney’s chief object is to search for this box. From the first 
he has insolently and rudely accused me of detaining it in the 
Castle; accused me both to my face and behind my back. 
Now I think it will turn out that the box is the prime motive- 
power, and that he has persuaded these poor fellows to join in 
the attack by promising them a share in the plate-booty for 
their pains.” 

“ Where is the box?” 

“ I can not say.” 

“ Did it enter the Castle?” 

“ Have I not explained that the things were all placed in 
my strong-room and secured; and that when they were visited 
— on the same day, and by Lydney himself — the box in ques- 
tion was not among them? The two men who carried in the. 
things could not remember that particular box; my butler, 
who was looking on, failed to observe it; in short, the only pair 
of eyes which professed to witness its actual entry belonged to 
this young reptile Shad; and he’s the deuce’s own cousin for 
telling lies if it suits his purpose.” 

“ Had he a purpose?” 

‘‘He was standing by watching the unloading of the cart. 
Lydney afterward heard of this atid offered him sixpence if 
he could tell where the box went to. Shad said into the Cas- 
tle — having the attractions of the sixpence before his sight. 
The general opinion was that the box was stolen from the cart 
in its progress to the Castle. For my own satisfaction’s sake, 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 237 


and in justice to my servants, I had the Castle at once 
searched by the police; but no box was found. 

“ And did Lydney know of this?"’"’ 

‘‘ He did. The inspector of police here informed him 
ofit/^ 

“ Then, my lord, how can you take up the opinion that he 
must be breaking into the Castle after the box?'’'' 
r “It is my opinion,” replied Lord Dane. “ Bad as he is, I 
do not believe personal injury to myself is his object.” 

“ Have you cause to think he may entertain any ill-feeling 
> against you at all?” proceeded Mr. Blair, after some reflec- 
tion. 

“Ho. Unless — I declare, that is a point in the business 
that never occurred to me till this moment — unless he is cog- 
l nizant that I, on Tuesday last, warned Mr. Lester against him. 
I found the fellow growing more intimate than was expedient 
with Miss Lester — at all events trying to do so — meeting her 
in her walks, and the like; and I gave Mr. Lester my opinion 
of his character, with the grounds for it. I understand Mr. 
^ Lester so far acted upon it that same day as to turn him from 
the house upon his attempting to call. ” 

“ Did he know it was you who gave Mr. Lester the informa- 
f tion?^^ inquired Mr. Blair. 

t “ Hot th^t I am aware of. But he may have learned it.^^ 
v “Quite sufficient provocation to induce ill-feeling toward 
t your lordship in a base mind like his,” remarked the officer. 

? “ Especially if he really had cast a covetous eye on the fortune 

of the young lady. ” 

“ But to murder me for it!” cried Lord Dane, in a doubt- 
I ful tone. “ That^s rather strong revenge.” 
t “ Few men, let them be ever so bad, contemplate murder,” 
I' answered Mr. Blair. “ The crime, when committed, gener- 
al ally arises with circumstances. But I must lay my plans so 
I that this one does not succeed in it. Where is your police-sta- 
^ tion?” 

F “ In the heart of Danesheld. I will walk with you to it.” 

I “ I understand that your lordship gives the entire charge of 
I tliis business into my hands .P” pursued Mr. Blair. 

I “ Undoubtedly.” 

I “ Then you must allow mp to go to work in my own way. 

» I would prefer to visit the inspector here alone. His name is 
I Young, I think?” 

i “ Young. He succeeded Wilkes, who died. Your jflau 
^ will be, I suppose, to place some men each night inside the 
t Castle? 


238 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATS. 


“I will inform your lordship of my plans this evening, 
when I shall have had time to consider of them. 

Mr. Blair walked into the town and found the police-sta- 
tion. Inspector Young happened to be in the first room alone, 
perched upon a stool. The stranger, in a summary sort of 
manner, began asking various questions of Danesheld and its 
inhabitants, of the police-station, and of other things, rousing 
the ire of the inspector, who was a great ^ man in his own es- 
timation, and considered that nobody save a magistrate or 
Lord Dane himself might interfere in what pertained to his 
post. 

“ I should be glad to know who you are, coming in and ex- 
amining into my business,’’^ cried he, resentfully. 

“ Should you?^’ was the careless reply. “ I am Mr. Blair, 
from Scotland Yard; and I hold my private orders direct from 
Sir Eichard Mayne.'’^ 

The inspector jumped olf the stool. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,’’ ^ said he. ‘‘Please to step into 
the inner room. I hope — I^’m sure I hope nothing in our 
office here has fallen under the displeasure of Sir Eichard. 

“ Not that I have heard, replied Mr. Blair as he took his 
seat. “But now I want a great deal of information from 
you. Who’s this Lydney that’s stopping in the place?” 

“ Well, I don’t know who he is,” returned the inspector. 
“ We can’t make him out, sir. To appearance, and to speak 
to, he seems of the very highest degree — you wouldn’t take 
him for anything less than a nobleman. But, on the other 
hand, he mixes himself up with poachers and disreputable 
people, goes into the woods with them at night, lodges at a 
public-house, and, in short, we are puzzled.” 

“ Was it his own box that was lost?” 

“ He says not. Very anxious he has been for its recovery 
—--quite feverish over it. He offered a thousand pounds re- 
ward.” 

“ When he is probably not worth a hundred pence. Had 
that box been produced and the reward claimed you might 
have found yourselves in a dilemma or had to rob your own 
pockets to give it. ” 

Inspector Young smiled. 

“ We are more cautious than that, sir, though we are coun- 
trymen.' My Lord Dane dropped me a hint to the same effect; 
and I, in a civil way, intimated to Lydney that he was a stran- 
ger, and we could not be answerable for the reward. So he 
deposited the money with me. ” 

The thousand pounds?” uttered Mr. Blair. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


239 


“ He did, sir. Of course I gave him an acknowledgment; 
and we hold the money still. But I had to pass my word to 
him that the transaction should be a strict secret; consequently 
it is not known. 

‘‘ Not to Lord Dane? 

“ Not to any one. Lord Dane^s opinion is that Lydney 
himself has possession of the box; but — 

“ No, it is not,^^ interrupted Mr. Blair. 

“ 1 can assure you that it is,^^ said the inspector. 

“ I can assure you that it is not” authoritatively corrected 
Mr. Blair. “ If his lordship has told you so he must have 
had his own reasons.'’^ 

The inspector did not dare to contradict again. He looked 
at his superior and waited. The latter lowered his voice. 

“ Have you heard that Dane Castle is likely to be broken 
iutor'^ 

‘‘ No!'’^ exclaimed the inspector. “ Who by?^^ 

“ Lydney — as the chief mover. And his object, as Lord 
Dane thinks — one of his objects — is to search after this iden- 
tical box; the other object is the plate-chest. That is the 
business I am down upon.^^ 

“ My goodness me!"’"’ ejaculated the inspector, after a pause: 
‘‘Lydney! well, I could not have believed that of him! .1 
canT understand this at all, sir.^^ 

“ Neither can I,” returned Mr. Blair. “ It was clear 
enough before you told me of the thousand pounds; it is not 
now. How can I get at a chap called Shad? I should like a 
meeting with the gentleman — accidental, you comprehend.-’^ 

“ That will be easily effected. He is always about the 
wood,^'’ was the reply of the inspector. 

While they converse let us turn for an instant to Miss Bor- 
dillion^s, where Mr. Lydney was j)resenting himself for a 
morning call. 

“ Not at home,’^ said the servant; but at that veiy unlucky 
moment who should present her unconscious self at the win- 
dow but Miss Bordillion. Lydney looked at her, and then at 
the servant, a half smile upon his face. The girl felt angry 
and confused, and attempted a justification. 

“It is not my fault, sir; I have only to obey orders. 
Though it is not my mistress's general custom to say she is not 
at home when she is. " 

“ Miss Bordillion desired you to deny her if I called?" 

“ Yes, sir, she did." 

He wrote a few words on a leaf of his pocket-book, tore it 
out, and sent it in to Miss Bordillion. 


240 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


“ I pray you, as a favor, see me for a few minutes. I will 
not ask it again. " 

“ Once more can't matter," said Miss Bordillion to herself 
as she read the words. ‘‘ Show Mr. Lydney in, Ann." 

‘‘ I thank you for admitting me," he began, as he entered. 
‘‘ I find. Miss Bordillion, that within the last day or two some 
strange rumors to my prejudice have been circulating in 
Daneslield. With Lord Dane I never was in favor; but others 
were friendly^ with me. Will you tell me, candidly, what 
these rumors^re and whence they arise? I apply to you, be- 
cause I believe you are truthful and sincere; above petty 
prejudice, and I have learned to believe that of all in Danes- 
held you esteemed me as a friend?" 

Miss Bordillion hesitated in perplexity. She was, as he 
designated it, truthful and sincere; but she was also kind, and 
revolted at the thought of giving pain. Mi:. Lester had 
favored her with his version of the reports against Lydney, as- 
serting that they were indisputably true — as Lord Dane had 
asserted to him — and Miss Bordillion felt that she could not 
again receive one who lay' under so dark a cloud. 

“You probably heard that Mr. Lester turned me from his 
door?" he proceeded, finding she did not speak. 

“ I must acknowledge that I did." 

And you have given orders to be denied to me. Well, 
now. Miss Bordillion, would it not be fair to acquaint me with 
the grounds for that line of conduct? A man can not fight 
shadows. " 

‘‘ It might be fair, Mr. Lydney, but it would be a task by 
no means agreeable. That there are tales abroad to your 
prejudice it would be folly to deny; but I think the removing 
of them rests with yourself. " 

“ In what way? I can not, I say, combat shadows." 

“ It appears to me that you should declare who you are. 
You have said that you are of good family — a family of some 
note in England. I am sure I received the assertion with per- 
fect reliance on its truth, as I make no doubt others did. But 
now that these prejudices against you have arisen, it is in- 
cumbent on you to declare more particularly who your family 
are, and of what country. I think if you could do this the 
feeling against you would in a measure be removed. You 
perceive I speak openly. " 

Something like amusement twinkled in his eye as he list- 
ened. 

“ I suppose, since the prejudice has spread, people have 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


341 


been searching through the peerage and baronetage and all 
your other red books to find the name of Lydney/’ said he. 

“ Something very like it, I believe,” replied Miss Bordillion. 

Do you not see that it is necessary you should declare your- 
self?” 

Will you tell me what the rumors are and whence they 
arise?” 

“ Whence they arise I do not know; from your own con- 
duct, I believe. People talk of your being friendly with the 
poachers, of your frequenting the woods at night. For my- 
self I do not credit that; I do not, indeed, Mr. Lydney; I 
have better faith in you.” 

“ Yet you have ordered your doors to be closed. ” 

“ I — I could not do otherwise,” she answered, quite dis- 
tressed at having to give the explanation, yet deeming it bet- 
ter to speak freely now it was entered upon. “ Squire Lester 
insisted upon it; or else Maria’s visits here must have ceased.” 

I am accused, I hear, among other heinous sins,” he pro- 
ceeded, dropping his voice to a lower key, “ of entertaining 
covetous designs on the fortune of Miss Lester.” 

Who could have told you that?” uttered Miss Bordillion. 

It is patent to all Danesheld. You may hear it as you 
pass along the street. I am supposed to be doing my best to 
delude Miss Lester into a Gretna Green escapade, or some 
such unorthodox marriage, for the sake of touching her four- 
teen thousand pounds. Allow me to assure you. Miss Bordil- 
lion, that, whenever I do marry, it will be of no moment to me 
whether my wife shall possess fourteen thousand pounds, or 
not fourteen hundred pence.” 

I wish you would not mention these things, Mr. Lydney, 
for they only pain me to hear them. For myself, I can not 
but have confidence in you; there is something about you that 
I have trusted from the first, and trust still. But put your- 
self in my position, and refiect how impossible it is that I can 
act against the stream, and continue to receive you here — 
especially with Miss Lester visiting me as usual. If you would 
be more open, as to yourself, and declare whovou are, it might 
be different.” 

“ The fact is,” said Lydney, but in a good-natured tone, 
‘‘ that you do doubt me. You like me personally, you have a 
sort of faith in me, at least you had; but you can not overget 
the budget of innuendoes against me now opened. I do not 
know that I blame you for it. Miss Bordillion; in your position, 
as you observe, I might judge as you do. I will not intrude 
longer on you/’ he added, as he rose, ‘‘ but I must express my 


24:2 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


hope that the time will shortly come when you will welcome 
me to your house again. 

Miss Bordillion held out her hand in token of adieu. 

“ Were I you, Mr. Lydney, I would no longer remain in 
Danesheld; it can not be a pleasant spot of abode to you now.^^ 

“ That proves how you share in the general prejudice,^'’ he 
laughed, as he released her hand. ‘‘ Farewell. 

‘‘ Not a word about his family — or who he is,^^ thought 
Miss Bordillion, as she turned to ring the bell. ‘‘ IdonT know 
what to think. 

The servant had the street door open as he approached it, 
admitting Maria Lester. Mr. Lydney caught her hand and 
drew her into a small room or study, where in past days she 
and Edith used to do their lessons. He closed the door, and 
stood before her. 

“ Maria, he began, calling her in his agitation by her 
Christian name, “ I am going to put your friendship, your 
confidence in me, to the proof. Hark tales are abroad to my 
prejudice, insinuations that I am not what I appear to be, that 
I am no gentleman; nay, worse, that I am a bad character. 
Do you believe them?’’ 

“ No,” she said, quietly, lifting her trusting eyes to his. 

“ I will not thank you; it appears to me that if you could 
believe such accusations, cast on me, you would not be worth 
my thanks. Bold, you will say. Yes, I am bold in this mo- 
ment. It is not convenient to me — you shall know why, some 
time — to declare anything more of myself than people know 
at present. The tales of my nefarious doings will right them- 
selves; I do not fear them, or cast a word to them; but when 
you hear it said that I am no gentleman, that I am an ad- 
venturer, believe it not. Will you trust me?” 

“ With my whole heart and faith,” she answered, the tears 
rising to her eyes. 

‘‘ I do thank you now,” and somehow he contrived to pos- 
sess himself of both her hands. Holding them between his, 
he looked her steadfastly in the face. “ It has been brought 
against me that I am striving to gain the affections of Miss 
Lester for the sake of securing her fortune. Upon the state 
of Miss Lester’s affections I will not enter, but I will honestly 
avow that she has gained mine. I say no more; I must leave 
it to the future; to the time when I can present myself before 
Mr. Lester, and ask that his daughter may be given to me for 
my own. In that hour Mr. Lester will find that fortune is 
certainly no object to me, and that he is heartily welcome to 


tiADY ADKLATDE^S OATH. 


243 


retain any she may possess. I have not offended you in saying 
this?” he added, in a tone of the deepest tenderness. 

No, he had not offended her; far from it; her heart only 
beat more responsively to the avowal. It was an instant of 
agitation; her feelings were nearly beyond control, and her wet 
eyelashes rested on her crimsoned cheeks. 

“ It has been told to me,^^ he whispered, “ that another 
covets the prize for his: one whom I suspect to be my enemy. 
And that Mr. Lester favors his suit.” 

“ But not I,^' she answered, in the mementos impulse. “ I 
never can be his, though he has made it a condition of his 
placing Wilfred beyond reach of want. Papa would like it; 
Lord Lane is rich and a man of rank.^^ 

“ I will take care of Wilfred,” said Mr. Lydney; so far as 
any one can take care of him. And it may be in my power 
to offer Mr. Lester a position for his daughter, not inferior to 
that of Lord Lane. Only trust me, Maria,” he concluded, as 
he lingeringly released her, and turned away. 

As the maid was showing him out, a stranger passed the 
door, and looked keenly at him, very keenly, Lydney thought. 
It was not, however, an offensive stare; but the eyes that gave 
it appeared to have a peculiar power of their own for taking in 
all points of any object on which they rested. 

“ I hope he will know me again, said Mr. Lydney, good- 
humoredly. ‘‘ I wonder who he is?” 

“ I know, sir,” said the girl. “ He passed when I was in 
the tea-shop just now, and I heard it. It is my Lord Lane^s 
banker, come down on a visit. Good-morning, Mr. Lydney, 
sir.” 

The last sentence was uttered in a hearty tone, and with a 
raised voice, for Lydney had slipped half a crown into her 
hand, willing, perhaps, to prove to the girl that he cherished 
no resentment against her for obeying orders, n.nd denying 
him. The stranger evidently caught her tones, and turned to 
the maid. 

“ Lid I hear you call that gentleman Lydney?” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir. That^s Mr. Lydney.” 

Mr. Blair looked after him, looked curiously, as if Lydney 
did not answer to the picture he had mentally painted of him. 

“He does look like a gentleman,” were the words that 
seemed involuntarily to escape him. 

“ He is a gentleman, if ever there was one,” cried the girl, 
familiarly. 

“Ah!” soliloquized Mr. Blair, walking on. “Just the 


244 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


fellow to come into a country-place and ride the high horse* 
He might deceive us, if we trusted to his looks. 


CHAPTER XXIV, 

THE ATTACK. 

It was Sunday evening, and several days subsequent to the 
arrival of Mr. Blair. In the large dining-room at Dane Cas- 
tle he sat. Lord Dane with him. Both gentlemen had finished 
their wine, but the decanters and dessert remained on the ta- 
ble. They were in earnest conversation, when suddenly one 
of the windows was shaken, and Lord Dane rose hastily, pulled 
aside the white blind, the curtains not being closed, and found 
himself face to face with Mr. Shad, the glass only between 
them. He had mounted the iron railings outside, and was 
standing on the spikes, leaning forward, and holding on by 
the frame of the window. 

“ You young imp!^^ uttered Lord Dane, as he drew back 
the window, which opened in the middle, after the manner of 
the French, “ what the deuce brings you here?^^ 

“ They^re a-coming on this very night, my lard — I know 
they is,^' cried Shad, his face working with excitement. 

“ They Ye in the wood now, and a- tying black crape to their 
hats; I see Ym a- tying of Ym on, and I thought IM come and 
tell ye. Mr. Blair was by the side of Lord Dane, and he 
seized the boy and deposited him inside the room. 

“ I see the Rumination in this here parlor,^^ proceeded 
Shad, “ and made bold to get up and look if it was your lard- 
ship in it, but the blind hindered me. I was afeared to go to 
the big gates, for the servants would on^y ha^ druv me back 
again. 

“ How many did you see?^^ asked Mr. Blair. 

“I see four.' Two tall, and two short, answered Shad. - 
“ There was the three what I heerd a-planning of the thing 
days back, and the t’other, the tallest of all, was like — ; I 
didn’t see his face, though,” he broke off. “ He was a-sitting 
down all the time, and the black hung afore his nose.” 

“ How can you tell that he was tall, if he were sitting 
down?” demanded Mr. Blair. 

“ ’Cause he was,” was Shad’s reply. “ I twigged his long 
legs.” 

“ Who were you going to say he was like?” 

‘‘ Well, I never heerd him speak, and I never see him get 
u]) — ^but he was like Will Lester.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


245 


Nonsense angrily interposed Lord Dane. “ What should 
Wilfred Lester want, breaking into my house? The boy’s a 
fool, Blair, and has always been deemed one. Do you think 
it was Lydney?” he sharply added, turning to Shad. 

Now the boy was not a fool; he had a vast deal too much 
cunning to be a fool, and that cunning he was incessantly 
calling into requisition. It did not in the least matter to Shad 
whether the silent gentleman in the disguising crape might be 
Mr. Lydney or Mr. Wilfred Lester; his opinion was that it 
was the latter; but as the suggestion appeared to give offense 
to Lord Dane, who would evidently be better pleased to hear 
that it was Lydney, Shad’s cunning prompted him to veer 
round. 

“ Well, I dunno,” said he, with admirable simplicity. 
“ Lydney’s tall, too, he is; and I think the man was broad, 
here,” touching his chest, “like Lydney’s is. Yes, I does 
think he looked more like Lydney. ’Twas the leggins made 
me think o’ Will Lester; but I see Lydney with a pair on, one 
day.” 

“ Safe to be Lydney,” murmured Lord Dane in the ear of 
Mr. Blair. And the latter nodded. 

“ What did you hear?” he asked of Shad. 

“ I didn’t hear nothing, sir. They warn’t a- king, above 
a odd word ’bout the veils; and I cut off, and left ’em, to tell 
his lardship. ” 

Mr. Blair spoke for a moment in an under-tone with Lord 
Dane, and then gingerly lifted Shad out at the window again 
on to the spikes, telling him to jump down. Lord Dane ad- 
dressed the boy. . 

“ You go home at once to bed. Shad. You are not wanted, 
and there might be a danger, you know, of your getting shot, 
in mistake for one of the thieves, if you lingered near the Cas- 
tle. If these men get dropped upon through your information, 
you shall have such a reward as you have never seen in your 
life. Make the best of your way home. ” 

Away tore Shad, as if in a hurry of obedience. But the 
moment he was beyond view of the Castle, he stopped dead, 
threw up his arms, capered with his feet; performed, in short, 
all sorts of antics, and spoke out with his tongue: 

“ Go home to bed, my lard says! Not I; I hain’t agoing 
to bed; I’d like to see the fun. And as if I didn’t know Will 
Lester, though he have got the black crape over his face! 
He—” 

Shad found himseK pinioned. Strolling about and smoking 


246 ^ LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 

a cigar, was Mr. Sydney, close to whom Shad had uncon- 
sciously been dancing, and who had heard his words. . 

What is that about Will Lester and black crape. Shad?” 

Shad began to howl. He was a-going home to his granny’s 
to bed, he was. 

“ You .little hypocrite!” exclaimed Mr. Lydney, “do I 
want to hurt you, do you suppose? Look here. Shad, you can 
not play the simpleton with me, so just put off that idiotic 
folly. I ask you what you meant, when you alluded to Wil- 
fred Lester’s" having black crape over his face, and I ask to 
Tcnoiu, If you. don’t choose to tell me, I will take you off now 
to the police-station, and you shall tell them. What fun is go- 
ing on to-night? I heard all you said, and that Lord Dane 
had ordered you home to bed. Did you ever see a sovereign. 
Shad?” 

“ I have seed ’em,” returned Shad, with a stress on the. 
“seed.” 

“ Would you like to possess one?” 

“ Oh!” aspirated Shad, in trembling delight, his mouth be- 
ginning to water. 

“ I said I would give you sixpence if you told me the truth 
about that box; I believe you did tell me the truth, and I gave 
it to you. Tell me now the truth of what is agate touching 
Mr. Wilfred Lester, and I will give you a golden sovereign.” 

For that tempting bate Shad would have sold Danesheld and 
everybody in it, himself included. But Shad was somewhat 
puzzled. If this was the night of the grand expedition, and 
Mr. Lydney was strolling about enjoying idleness and a cigar, 
he could not be in it, as h\d been surmised. Shad’s cunning 
came to the rapid conclusion that he was not in it, and that 
they had been under a mistake in supposing so. 

“ I daren’t tell,” said he. “ I’m afeared as you’d tell on 
me again, and they’d kill me dead, some of”em.”l 

“You may trust my word^ Shad, better than I can trust 
yours; I will not tell upon you. See how bright it looks.” 

Mr. Lydney struck a fusee, took a sovereign from his pocket, 
and held the light close to it. The attraction was irresistible, 
and Shad speedily made a clean breast of it, and put Mr. Lyd- 
ney into possession of as much as he knew himself. 

“ The Castle was a-going to be broke into that night, and 
the plate-chest stoled,” was its substance. 

“ It is not possible that Wilfred Lester would join in an ex- 
pedition of that sort!” debated Mr. Lydney in incredulity. 

It’s not possible, I say. Shad.” 

“ I see ’em; they be a- tying the black crape over their faces 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


247 


at this v^ery time/’ was Shad’s eager rejoinder. ‘‘ There’s 
Drake, and Nicholson, and Ben Beecher; and Will Lester was 
a-sitting down, ready. My lard broke out upon me sharp, 
a-saying it warn’t him; he said it was yon.” 

“ Lord Dane said it was I?” repeated Mr. Lydney. 

‘‘ Leastways,” cried Shad, retracting lest he might be get- 
ting liimself into the water, “ he said, ‘ Was it Mr. Lydney 
or was it Will Lester?’ ’cause both was tall. So I said as I 
couldn’t speak to neither of ’em for certain, when 1 see it 
angered him. As if I didn’t know Will Lester!” 

After some further colloquy, Shad was dismissed, and Mr. 
Lydney remained in a state of the utmost perplexity and dis- 
composure. That Wilfred Lester had joined in certain night 
expeditions of the poachers, touching game, he had made him- 
self only too sure; but that he would rush madly into crime, 
was incomprehensible. One of two things was certain; he 
must have lost his senses, or become utterly reckless. 

How could he, Lydney, prevent its taking place? at any rate 
prevent Lester’s joining in it? It was indispensable he should 
DO prevented, not only for his own sake, but for his family’s; 
and a deep flush rose to Mr. Lydney’s brow, as he thought of 
the terrible disgrace it would reflect on Maria, should her 
brother be taken and tried for house-breaking. As he thus 
mused, he became conscious that several policemen were pass- 
ing him, not together, but singly, and at different times, as if 
not to attract observation; the connection of their errand 
flashed into his mind — they were going up to guard the Castle? 
All that he could do was to follow them, place himself in a 
position that would command the approach to the Castle, 
watch for the appearance of the robbers, and intercept Wil- 
fred Lester. 

The only retainer of Lord Dane’s who had been made privy 
to the expected attack was Bruff. The rest had been suffered 
to retire quietly to rest, night after night, unconscious that 
any armed force was at watch in the Castle. Suffer it to be 
known to them, and it would no longer be a secret in Danes- 
held, was the argument of Mr. Blair; in which case the at- 
tack would not take place. On this Sunday night, the police 
were admitted privately as usual; the household went to bed; 
but Lord Dane, Mr. Blair and Bruff remained up. Mr. Blair 
told the officers that the attack was expected. 

They waited and waited; the men at their appointed posts, 
Mr. Blair anywhere and everywhere, Lorc^ Dane and Bruff in 
excitement; they waited and waited on. The clock struck one. 

“ It is very strange they don’t come!” muttered Mr. Blair. 


248 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


Suddenly, shots were heard in the wood at a distance, and 
the men came stealthily out of their hiding-places; Lord Dane 
and Bruff also rushed into the hall. 

Back, every one of you!" was the stern order of Mr. 
Blair. ‘‘ It is coming on now." 

“ They have met with some obstacle, and are fighting it 
out in the wood," exclaimed Lord Dane. ‘‘ Hark at the 
shots." 

‘‘ Back, I say, all of you!" was the reiterated order of the 
detective. “ Those shots are a ru^e to draw the attention of 
the keepers from the Castle, should any be near it. I expected 
something of the sort. They'll be here directly now. Back! 
and silence; and whatever you may hear or see, let none stir 
forth till I give the signal." 

Back they cowered, and the Castle returned to silence. And 
still they waited and waited on. 

Lydney also waited in his place of ambush. Like those 
within, he wondered what was keeping the villains. He heard 
the town-clock strike one; and not long after he heard the 
shots in the wood. It did not occur to him to take the view 
of them that the detective had done, and they disturbed him 
much; but he could not quit his present post. It was a mug- 
gy, disagreeble, damp night; the early part of it had been 
clear; but the weather was changing — anything but a pleasant 
night to remain on the watch in the open air. 

Suddenly, a noise stole on his ear; not, however, a sound of 
the covert footsteps of more than one, as he was expecting, 
but of one pair of boy's feet scampering over the ground with 
all possible -haste and noise. Mr. Lydney looked out and en- 
countered Shad. 

‘‘ So you are here? instead of having gone home to bed?" 

“ Don't hold on me then, please, sir," panted Shad, who 
was out of breath. “ I'm a-going to the Castle to tell Lord 
Dane. I know he's up a- waiting." 

To tell him what?" 

“ 'Tain't the Castle they be on to. It's the Hall." 

What?" screamed Lydney. 

‘‘ They've a-broke into it; they be in it now. I've been a- 
dogging on to 'em all the night, and they be gone right into 
the Hall, 'stead o' coming here. They took a pane out at one 
o' the winders." 

All that had been dark grew clear to Lydney. AVilfred 
Lester was after the^EED — the deed relating to his property, 
which his father withheld from him. He had persuaded those 
men into the expedition^ and they, no doubt, were after doing 


LADY ADLLAIDP/S OATH. 


m 

a little private business on their own account, touching the 
plate-chest. And this was correct. When Shad had heard, or 
partially heard, the planning, he had mistakenly concluded 
that the Castle was the object, never giving a thought to the 
Hall. The Castle, however, h^ never been threatened. And 
Wilfred Lester -(but this need scarcely be observed) was not 
cognizant of the men’s intention to steal. He purposed and 
believed that the abstraction wouTd be confined to the deed« 
He looked upon that as his own, and deemed he was commit- 
ting no sin to take it, under the circumstances of its being so 
unjustly and unlawfully denied him. 

With a half cry of dismay, Lydney sped toward the Hall; 
but ere he had gone a yard, he stopped and grasped Shad. 

“ You must not go to the Castle, Shad; there’s no need to 
acq^uaint Lord Dane with this. I will not have you go there.” 

Shad lifted his cunning and covetous eyes. 

“ They be on the watch, they be; and if I goes and tells his 
lardship as that lot hain’t a coming, may be he’ll give me a 
half a crown. ” 

‘^And a pretty thing you’d do,” returned Mr. Lydney, 
meeting cunning with cunning. “You would put them off 
their guard at the Castle; and how do you know ‘ that lot,’ 
as you call them, may not take a turn up there, after they 
have done with the Hall? Would Lord Dane reward you for 
that?” 

Shad opened his eyes. The notion had not struck him. 

“ You be quiet. Shad, that is all you have to do. Be entire- 
ly silent as to the doings of this night, and especially as to Wil- 
fred Lester; if I find that you are, I will do something better 
for you even than the sovereign. ” 

He flew toward the Hall, as he concluded, and Shad followed 
more slowly after him. 

Lydney seemed to gain the Hall in no time. He passed 
through the gates, and stood there to reconnoiter, before ap- 
proaching close. The house seemed silent as the grave; noth- 
ing could be seen, nothing heard; the blinds appeared drawn 
before the windows, and the inmates were no doubt sleeping 
peacefully. Lydney began to question whether that iniquitous 
Shad had deceived him when he was startled by the loud re- 
port of a pistol inside, and at the same moment some object 
seemed to come forth from the hall door, and disappear 
among the shrubs; but who or what he could not decide. He 
darted forward to the house and entered it, his head full of 
Wilfred Lester, his ill-conduct, and his danger. 

Shad had not used deceit. The men were in. Drake had 


250 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATS. 


entered by the means of the window, had then opened the 
back door and admitted the rest. They waited and listened 
when they were fairly in; but not a mouse seemed stirring — 
nothing but the beating of their own hearts. 

Silently went Wilfred Lester to his father study, the 
others with him; and silently he applied himself to open the 
safe, where his father had told him the deed was deposited. 
He had come armed with*a key to unlock it harmlessly, so 
that no discovery should be made of its having been opened by 
unfair means. Drake kept the room-door against surprise, 
Ben Beecher held the light, and Nicholson did nothing. It 
may be wondered that Wdlfred Lester should enlist three men 
in the expedition, when plunder was not the object, and there 
would be no booty to carry off; but the men had obstinately re- 
fused to go with him singly; all would risk it and stand by 
each other if surprised, or none. Young Lester yielded in 
his recklessness. 

Strange objects they looked there, on that dark, midnight 
expedition, the black crape disguising their faces. The safe 
was soon opened; but there appeared a mass of papers within, 
and Wilfred could not get at the deed without search. Other 
deeds were there, other papers; some tied with red tape, some 
sealed, some unfastened. They were disposed of in order, and 
there was no difficulty in looking them over — only it took 
time. He came to one: “ Will of George Lester, Esquire;^ ^ 
and the temptation to tear it open and read it was great; he 
felt sure he was disinherited; that he, the heir by right of 
birth, had been discarded for Lady Adelaide's children; but 
he resisted the impulse, and threw it aside with an angry and 
hasty word. Presently he came to the one he wanted; his 
own name on the back guided him to the right parchment, 
and he clutched it with a suppressed shout of joy. 

“ All right, boys! I have it at last.^^ 

There was a murmur of congratulation given under their 
breath; and Wilfred began putting in order again the papers 
he had disturbed. While doing this, Nicholson and Drake at- 
tempted to steal out of the room. Wilfred turned to them. 

“ Where are you going? Stop where you are!^^ 

‘‘ Why, 3"Ou^d never go to begrudge us a snack of bread and 
cheese, and a draught of beer?^^ returned Drake. “ We shall 
find it in the pantry, and TwonT be missed. 

You know the bargain,^^ said Wilfred Lester, in sup- 
pressed anger. “ Nothing must be touched in the house; no, 
not a crust of bread; they shall not have it to say that we 
came in like thieves, for common plunder. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


251 


‘‘ 1^11 take a stroll through it, at any rate/^ answered 
Drake, hardily. “ And as to not touching a bit and a sup, if 
I see it — 

“ I will shoot the first man who lays his finger upon any- 
thing in my father ^s house, no matter what it may be,^^ was 
the stern interruption of young Lester, as he drew his pistol. 
“ Drake! Nicholson! you know the agreement, I say. I have 
promised you a reward for helping me; and having secured 
the deed, I shall be able to pay it you; but the house and its 
contents must remain intact. 

They were callous, bold men, and not to be balked in that 
way. Having entered on the expedition with their own views 
of self-benefit, it was little likely they would be turned from 
them. A low whisper of conversation went on between Drake 
and Nicholson; something to the effect that they must accom- 
plish their purpose by stratagem, rather than come to an open 
broil with Wilfred Lester there and then; and they debated 
how best to work it. Wilfred, meanwhile, continued to 
arrange the papers in the safe; it was soon done, and he 
closed the door again, and locked it. 

“ Now, then,^’ said he, “ to get out as cleverly as we came 
in.^^ 

That was easier said than done,^for more reasons than one. 
"Wilfred Lester quitted the study, with his. companions, and 
locked the door, leaving the key in the lock as he had found it. 
“ Wefil go out at the hall door,^' he whispered, pointing to 
it; “ it is more handy, and I know the fastenings.'’^ 

Stealing over the oil-cloth, he gained it, undid the bolts, 
drew it cautiously open about an inch, and looked round. The 
men stood as he had left them; not one following him; and 
Beecher was putting the candle on a bracket . that rested 
against the wall. 

“ I tell you what it is. Master Lester, whispered Drake, 
who appeared to be more ready with his tongue than the others, 

we have helped you on to your ends, and you must help us on 
to ours; or if you wonT help, you must wink at ^em. "VVe come 
into this house with a resolve to pay ourselves, qr we shouldn' t 
have come in at all, and you may as well hear the truth, and 
make no bones over it. If we takes away but a spoon a-piece, 
we will take it, for we donT go empty handed. 

Wilfred Lester^s reply was to raise his pistol and cock it — 
not to fire upon them, but to coerce them to withdraw under 
fear that he would. Ben Beecher, believing his life was in 
danger, stepped close and threw up Lester's arm. The pistol 


252 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

went off; the bullet shattering the glass of a door at the back 
of the hall. 

“ Fools bitterly exclaimed Wilfred Lester; save your- 
selves, and be quick over it. Fools! fools!^^ 

He sped through the hall door, leaving it open for them to 
follow, and darted amidst the shrubs, on his right-hand, 
whence he could readily gain the road by scaling the iron rails. 
Nicholson and Beecher would have escaped with him, but 
Drake seized hold of both. 

“ DonH show yourselves what he called ye — fools, cried 
he, in a hoarse whisper. “We may get the forks yet; if they 
be sleeping sound, that shot mayn^t have roused "’em. Wait 
and see: ^enty of time to get off then.^^ 

But an interruption took place at that moment that they did 
not bargain for. The hall door was pushed wider, and in 
rushed a tall man. But that there was no crape on his face, 
they might have thought it young Lester come back again. 
He came close up to them, and they saw it was Lydney. 

“ You misguided, miserable men!’^ he uttered in agitation. 
“ Whereas Wilfred Lester?’’ 

Before they could frame an answer — whether it would have 
been one of civility, repulsion, or attack — Nicholson’s eye 
caught sight of something white on tlie staircase, and a human 
face staring at them through the balustrades. It was in a 
crouching position, and might have been there some time. 
The sound of the pistol had also done its work: doors were 
being opened and shut in consternation. 

“It’s all over!” stamped Drake. “ A race for it now, 
boys.^’ 

“ Wilfred Lester!” panted Lydney in emotion. “ Is he in 
the house, or not?” 

“ Not. I swear it. I won’t deceive you, Mr. Lydney; he 
escaped as you came in. ” It was Beecher who answered. 

Now, all this, since young Lester’s egress, though it may 
seem to take time in telling, had really been the work of but 
a few instants; but the noise was already great, for the figure 
on the stairs — a female, by her voice — began screaming and 
shrieking feairfully. The men rushed through the door; and 
Lydney rushed after them, in his pursuit of Wilfred Lester. 

“ What in the name of confusion is the matter?” was heard 
above the hubbub in the voice of Squire Lester, as he de- 
scended in pantaloons and slippers, while a crowd of timid 
ones aroused out of their sleep — ladies, domestics, children — 
cowered in the rear. And the female on the stairs, who was 
no other than Tiffle, sobbed out in answer: 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


253 

“ It’s a crowd of villyans with blackened faces, broke in to 
murder us.” 

With all possible speed. Squire Lester and his men-servants 
made search. But the villyans ” were gone. 

Exceedingly surprised, not to say discomfited, was the great 
London detective, Mr. Blair, to find that while he had snugly 
made all preparations for the defense of the Castle, tliat edifice 
* had been left to repose in security, and the Hall had suffered 
. the attack. Lord Dane was far more confounded to hear of 
it: for it sent all his calculations out to sea. What could Lyd- 
ney want at the Hall? he could not expect to find his box 
there; and it was hardly to be supposed he broke in to steal 
Miss Lester. Nothing had been missed, nothing displaced in 
the house; Squire Lester testified that he did not believe a 
thing had been touched; therefore robbery had scarcely been 
the object. But of course the outrage must be investigated. 

It is the custom in some parts of England for country mag- 
istrates to hold examinations of prisoners, when in a prelim- 
inary stage, at their own houses. Whether it be in strict ac- 
cordance with law is another matter. Country justices, 
especially in remote districts, pay more attention to conven- 
ience. than law. 

About eleven o’clock on Monday morning, there was a gath- 
ering at Squire Lester’s to inquire into the night’s outrage. 
Lord Dane, Mr. Blair, a neighboring magistrate or two, and 
the squire himself, were present; Lady Adelaide and Maria, 
the latter with a face of emotion, now crimson, now white; 
Inspector Young and a policeman; Mr. Apperly, who had been 
sent for; and — having obeyed the mandate to attend, half- 
request, half command, borne from Mr. Lester by Inspector 
Young — William Lydney. 'That it was not a strictly official 
inquiry, only an irregular one, the reader will understand by 
the ladies being present. There was no appearance of a court; 
they came in as morning guests might do, and took their seats 
anywhere; some stood. Maria held some embroidery in her 
hand and made a show of working at it; Lady Adelaide did 
nothing, save hold a screen between the fire and her delicate 
face. Mr. /llair -appeared merely as a friend of Lord Dane’s. 
He took no part in the proceedings, and his real character was 
unsuspected. The last to enter was Lydney, accompanied by 
Inspector Young: he looked exceedingly grave, not to say 
troubled, as he approached Mr. Lester, though as little like a 
house-breaker as it was possible to conceive. His elegant 
form, in its iihiin, gentlemanly morning ccstume, was drawn 
to its full height: it would seem that he might suspect the 


254 : 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


accusation to be made against him, and would not abate one 
jot of his dignity; very attractive did his high, pale features 
look that morning. 

‘‘ I have been favored by a message from you, Mr. Lester, 
desiring my attendance here,” he began, after saluting Lady 
Adelaide and Maria, and the rest of the company generally. 
“ May I request to know for what purpose?” 

“ Yes, sir,” dryly replied Mr. Lester. “ You may be 
aware that my house was broken into early this morning. I 
am about — in conjunction with my Lord Dane, and some of 
my brother-magistrates — to make some inquiry into it; and, 
from circumstances which have transpired, we deem it right 
that you should be present at the sitting. Are you ready to be 
so, of your own free will?” 

“ Perfectly ready,” replied Mr. Lydney. 

“ Good!” said the squire. “ Otherwise we must have com- 
pelled your attendance.” 

Now, it must be remembered that none save those in the 
secret knew of the suspected attack on Dane Castle. Mr. 
Lester and his brother-magistrates were in ignorance of it: the 
police, receiving their orders from Mr. Blair, did not mention 
it — Mr. Blair forbidding it at the earnest request of Lord 
Dane. Certainly the preparations for defense, and the posting 
the police inside could have had nothing to do with the attack 
on the Hall. Lord Dane strongly urged on Mr. Blair that the 
three men, spoken of by Shad, should not be told upon, and 
he spoke with all the high authority vested in the county’s 
lord-lieutenant: to such authority the officer could do little 
else but bow. In the first place, urged Lord Dane, nobody 
was sure that they were the men, they had only the word of 
that little liar. Shad, for it. In the second place, even if they 
were the men, they had, beyond doubt, been beguiled by that 
traitor, Lydney — whom it would be much more in accordance 
with justice to punish for the whole. Thus, it occurred that 
nothing was likely to transpire beyond the fact of the actual 
entrance into the Hall. Shad was not alluded to in the busi- 
ness, and the only person who appeared likely to give evidence 
was Tiffle. 

Tiffle was introduced to the drawing-room, courtesying, 
ambling and shuffling. Squire Lester desired her to speak out 
what she knew to Lord Dane and the magistrates. 

“ I retired to rist last night, my lord,” began Tiffle, 
choosing to address his lordship particularly, ‘‘ and what the 
reason was, I am inable to say; but the more I tried to get to 
gleep, the more pertineshously I lay awake. Well, my lord, it 


iiADt ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


255 


was getting on I’m sure for two o’clock, when I started up in 
bed, a-thinking I heard something down-stairs. The flurry it 
put me in is undescriptable, and I went out of my room to 
listen. If ever I heerd. voices in the Hall, I heerd ’em then: 
I thought some of the household had got down-stairs at their 
pranks — for a tight hand I’m obligated to keep over the serv- 
ants in this house — and I crept to the last flight and peeped 
through the balusters. I never could have done it if I had 
known, but I no more thought of bulgarious robbers being in 
the Hall than — ” 

What did you see or hear?” interposed Lord Dane. 

“ My lord, I saw this. I saw three horrid marauders with 
their faces blackened, and I saw another which I couldn’t 
distinguish nothing of but his coat-tails a- whisking out at the 
hall door. Then, or whether it was just before it I can’t be 
sure, a dreadful pistol went off, and I nearly fainted. I 
wouldn’t faint, however; I come- to, knowing the family’s 
lives were at stake, and I looked down again, and there I saw 
the man whisk into the hall again, and I’m sorry to say ” — 
Tiffle coughed and dropped her voice — “ that it was Mr. Lyd- 
ney.” 

There was a dead pause. 

“What next?” said Lord Dane. 

“ My lord, nothing. Except that they all four, him, and 
the black bulgarians, talked together for a minute, and then 
they blew out the candle which had been flaring, level with 
their heads, and tore away, one trying to get ofl faster than 
another.” ' ^ 

Mr. Lydney glanced round at Maria. She sat there with a 
white face, her "hands clasped. He smiled at her; it did not 
look like the smile of a guilty man. 

“ You hear?” exclaimed Squire Lester. 

“Ido hear,” replied Mr. Lydney. 

“ Can you offer any explanation?” 

“ I swear it was him,” broke forth Tiffle. “ If he denies 
it he will commit perjury. I saw him as plain as I see him 
now. I didn’t know the others, because their faces were de- 
guised in black, bat his was not.” 

“ I did enter your house last night, Mr. Lester, but only 
once,” he calmly said. “ If a person went out of it, before 
I came in, as your servant testifies, it was not myself.” 

Every soul present appeared struck with consternation at 
the boldness of the avowal. When the sensation had sub- 
sided, Lord Dane inquired haughtily if he could plead any- 
thing in justification. 


256 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATS. 


“ If you will allow me five-minutes'’ conversation with you 
in private, Mr. Lester/^ said Lydney, turning to that gentle- 
man, “ I will enter upon my justification. Probably you may 
deem it a satisfactory one. 

Mr. Lester repulsed the request indignantly. He was not 
accustomed to grant private interviews to midnight burglars. 
Had Lydney anything to say, he must speak out. 

Then I have no resource but to be silent,’^ observed Mr. 
Lydney, after a pause of thought. “ Nevertheless, I am inno- 
cent of any offense. 

‘‘ You have called yourself a"' gentleman, cynically re- 
marked Lord Dane. And Lydney took a step forward and 
threw his head back with dignity. 

“I am at least as much of a gentleman as your lordship — 
in all points,'’'’ was the firm ansv-^er. ‘‘ Possibly, did we come 
to examine and compare rank and rights, I should take prece- 
dence of you. 

The whole room (save one) resented the speech, and were 
ready to cudgel Lydney for the insult to my Lord Dane. 

“ Let it pass,^'’ said his lordship, good-naturedly. “ I can 
afford it. Will you make out the warrant for his committal, 
Mr. Apperly?^^ 

“ For my committal!’ interrupted Lydney, half angiy, half 
inclined to laugh. ‘‘ Committal where? and for what?” 

‘‘ To the police-station, for the present, while we look after 
your companions, and for the crime of breaking into Danes- 
held Hall, ” sharply spoke Squire Lester. 

“This is^b^ond a joke,” cried Lydney. “You cannot 
possibly suppose I broke into it, or was one of those who did?” 

“ Silence, sir!” said Lord Dane. “ The opportunity of 
explanation was offered you, and you declined to make use 
of it ” 

Lydney remained silent; not in obedience to his lordship, 
but for self-communing. The warrant for his committal was 
made out, and Inspector Young laid his hand upon him. 

“ You are my prisoner, William Lydney.” 

Then Mr. Lydney roused himself, and appeared as though 
he would have entered upon his justification; but, as he was 
turning to Mr. Lester, his eyes rested on Maria, and it seemed 
to change his intention. Jle hesitated, and finally remained 
silent. 

“ You need not touch me,” he quietly said to Inspector 
Young, “ I will yield to your authority. But do not treat 
me as if I were guilty. ” 

The audience was broken up, and the room rose. In the 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


257 


confusion, William Lydney found himself near Miss Lester. 
There was a whole world of sincerity, of truth, in his smile 
of tenderness. 

“Appearances are dark just now, Maria, he whispered. 
“ Can you trust me still 

“ I trust you more than ever, William. I will trust you 
through all,^’ she answered fervently. 

“It shall be well repaid, my darling. And Inspector 
Young called him, and marshaled him forth, an ignominious 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE DEAD lET LIFE. 

Ii^ the inyalid^’s room — for so they called that at the Sail- 
or^s Rest, tenanted by the stranger, Mr. Home — there was 
great bustle. Ravensbird was in attendance, his wife also, 
and Dr. Green was there; all gathered round Mr. Home, who 
lay on the sofa, very, very ill. Ailing from the first, he had 
now been taken alarmingly worse, and the physician gave little 
hopes that he would recover. 

“ Tell me how long you think I shall last,’^ said Mr. Home 
to him. “ I do not fear death; but if I am near it, I must 
settle many things.-’^ 

“ Of immediate death, hourly death, there is no danger,^ ^ 
was the reply, “ and I think you will rally yet. But I do fear 
your life will not be much prolonged. 

“ That is, I may rally so as to last a few days? Speak 
out. 

“ Yes,^^ said the physician, reluctantly. 

“ Then the sooner Apperly is brought to me, the better, 
was the invalid ^s answer. “ Do you hear, Ravensbird?” 

Dr. Green shook hands with his patient, and went out. 
Mr. Home spoke again, anxiety in his tone. His voice was 
as energetic as it had ever been : his intellect as keen. 

“ Ravensbird, there's no time to be lost. Send for Ap- 
perly." 

“ Immediately, my lord," was the man's answer. 

But, it so happened, that as Dr. Green left the Sailor's Rest, 
he was overtaken by the group who had emerged from Danes- 
beld Hall. Apperly was among them; and Inspector Young 
walked by the side of Lydney. Dr. Green informed Apperly 
that he was wanted at the Sailor's Rest in his professional 
capacity, and the latter went in at once, and proceeded to the 

door of the sick-chamber. 

0 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH, 


258 


“I am told the old gentleman wants me, who is lying 
here/^ quoth he to Sophie, who came out to him. 

‘‘ Yes, he is very ill, answered Sophie. “ But you need 
not call him old, Mr. Apperly: he is not as old as you are. 
You can go in. 

She held the door open for him, quitting the room herself. 
Mr. Apperly advanced to the couch, near which stood Ravens- 
bird. 


“lam sorry to hear you are seriously ill, sir,^^ he began. 
“ Mr. Home, I believe. 

The invalid turned his head toward him. His high features, 
somewhat attenuated now by sujffering, his keen eyes, and his 
white hair. A handsome man still. Mr. Apperly gazed at 
him, and then backed a few paces, astonishment, mingled with 
terror, on his countenance. 

“ Good heavens!’^ he uttered, as he wiped his brow. 

It — it — can it be? It is Captain Dane! come to life again. 

“ No, sir,^^ rejoined the invalid, very sharply for one so ill, 
“ it is not Captain Dane. I am Lord Dane. And so I have 
been, ever since my father^s death. 

The lawyer looked bewildered. He turned from the sick 
man to Ravensbird, from Ravensbird to the sick man. 

“ Is it not a dream?'*' he gasped. 

“ It is not a dream," said Ravensbird. “ It is my old mas- 
ter, sure enough; my lord now. I have been proud to know 
it ever since th^e day after the shipwreck." 

“ Why, you — you — are supposed to be lying in the Danes- 
held vaults, sir — my lord. Goodness help me!" broke off 
Apperly in his former hot fashion; “ if you are in truth Lord 
Dane, who is he — the other Lord Dane at the Castle?" 

“.If I am in truth Lord Dane!" retorted the invalid. 
“ What do you mean, Apperly? I am my father's son." 

“ Yes, yes, of course; but these sudden changes confuse me, 
my lord. Who is he at the Castle, I say? I can't collect my 
senses." 

“ I should think you can't," was the reply of the true Lord 
Dane. “ He is a usurper; not an intentional one; we must 
give him that due. He is plain Mr. Herbert Dane, and never 
has been anything else, though he has reveled in all the 
rights of a peer for these ten years. " 

“ It will take me — it will take me a week to get over this; 
a week before I can comprehend it," ejaculated Apperly. 
“ Were you really not killed, my lord?" 

“ If I was killed I came to life again," said Lord Dane, in- 
tending the words as a joke. “ The fall over the cliff took 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


259 


away my senses for a' time, and otherwise injured me; but I 
recovered. A moment yet, Apperly: there will be some work 
for the lawyers between me and the false Lord Dane; which 
side do you enlist upon?" 

“ Yours, my lord, certainly; yours by all means." 

“ Then I retain you as my adviser, and I will tell you my 
tale. But I should wish somebody else to be present. Kavens- 
bird, where's Mr. William?" 

“ He has not been in, my lord, since he went this morning 
to Danesheld Hall." 

“ Did he go to Danesheld Hall?" asked Lord Dane. 

“ Yes," was Ravensbird's answer. “ Squire Lester sent 
for him. " 

“ And a pretty kettle of fish he has got himself into, if you 
mean the young man lodging here, William Lydney," put 
in the lawyer. He is taken into custody on remand. Young 
has just walked him off to the station-house." 

“ Walked Mr. Lydney off to the station-house!" uttered 
Ravensbird, while Lord Dane stared, in unqualified astonish- 
ment. 

‘‘ A shocking scapegrace, I'm afraid, gentlemanly as he 
looks," explained Mr. Apperly. Reports have been abroad, 
connecting him with the poachers, for some time; but he has 
got himself into real trouble now. He and three more, with 
blackened faces, broke into the Hall last night, for robbery 
no doubt, but that they were disturbed. Lydney is the only 
one of the lot taken ks yet." 

“How dare you so traduce him, and in my presence?" 
cried Lord Dane, his eyes flashing wrath. “ You don't 
know what you are saying Apperly. Are you aware who he 
is?" 

“ Hot I, my lord. I know nothing of him, except that his 
name's Lydney; or he says it is. Danesheld looks upon him 
as an adventurer." 

“ He will be Danesheld's chief tain, sir; I can tell you that," 
returned his lordship, with emotion. “Ay, you may stare, 
but he will. He is my own lawful son, and will be my Lord 
Dane before many days are over, for I sha'n't last longer." 

“ Why, it is mystery upon mystery!" exclaimed Mr. Ap- 
perly, who certainly did stare, in no measured degree. “ He 
goes by the name of Lydney." 

“He is my own son, I tell you, the Honorable Geoff ry 
William Lydney Dane. Geoffry is his first name, but we have 
always called him William: my wife, a lady of French extrac- 


260 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


tion, used to say her lips would not pronounce the Geoffry. 
And you assert that he is in custody?^'’ 

“ He is in custody beyond dispute, for I made out myself 
the warrant for his committal/^ was the answer of Mr. Ap- 
perly. And he forthwith proceeded to give Lord Dane a sum- 
mary of the circumstances, so far a^he knew them: dwelling 
on the fact that Mr. Lydney did not deny having been in the 
house, as testified to by Tiffle. 

“ One thing is certain,'’’ said Lord Dane, that William is 
incapable of a mean or dishonorable action. If he was in 
Lester’s house, he was there for some good and legitimate 
purpose, and so it will turn out: not for a bad one. Pshaw, 
sir! speak of house-breaking in connection with William 
Dane, a future peer of England! I will stake the rest of my 
poor life that Herbert Dane — my lord, as you all call him — is 
at the bottom of these rumors against him. I do not suppose 
he suspects who William is; but I think it likely that he fears 
I am alive, and goe^ upon thorns, lest I should turn up. ” 

‘‘ My lord, may I ask you why you did not assume your 
rank and your rights when you first returned?” said Apperly. 
‘‘ Why you have lain on here in obscurity, suffering Lord Dane 
— Mr. Herbert, I should say — to continue in his honors?” 

‘‘ All in good time,” replied Lord Dane. “ I have had my 
reasons. You know that box that so much has been said 
about?” 

Well, my lord?” 

“ I must get that into my possession, if I can, before I alarm 
Mr. Herbert Dane. I would almost barter my boy’s future 
title to have it safely by my side now. Apperly,” continued 
Lord Dane, after a pause, given to reflection, “ it has been in 
my mind some time to have a detective officer down. Keen 
men' are those London detectives; they ferret out everything; 
and i)erhaps by those means I may arrive at the box. I was 
only waiting for my health to get better; but it has got worse 
instead. You shall telegraph for one this day.” 

“ A London detective is at present in Danesheld, at the 
Castle,” replied Mr. Apperly. “ His name is Blair, and he 
passes as Lord Dane’s banker; business brought me in contact 
with him some time ago, and of course I recognized him, but 
he gave me a hint that he was here incog. He might suit 
your lordship’s purpose as well as another.” 

Not if he be a friend of Lord Dane’s, as you persist in 
calling him.” 

I beg the true Lord Dane’s pardon,” smiled Mr. Ap- 
perly; “ but we have called Mr. Herbert Lord Dane so long. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


S61 


that we must call him so, I fear, by many another slip of the 
tongue. I could ascertain by two words to Blair himself, 
whether he is at liberty to give his energies to your cause. 

“ Then go and do so at once,^^ was the command. “Let 
him understand that he will have to act against the present 
Lord Dane of the Castle, but do not mention me otherwise 
than as Mr. Home. When Doctor Green was called in to me 
— I could not send for Wild, because he would have known 
me — he asked my name. I replied, ‘ Mr. Home,^ for I was 
thinking of my own home at the moment, and the word did as 
well as any other. If this Blair will assist, bring him back 
with you, for it is high time to act, and the plot is thickening. 
The heir of Dane in custody for felony! Do you hear it, 
Eavensbird?^^ 

As Mr. Apperly walked toward the Castle, not knowing, 
where else to look for the detective, it occurred to him that he 
was not bent upon altogether an honorable errand. To seek 
Mr. Blair in his host^s residence, purposely to ask him to act 
against that host, was certainly not altogether clear steering; 
but lawers are thick-skinned, most of them, and so was Mr Ap- 
perly. It happened, however, that he had not to seek Mr. Blair 
at the Castle, for he met the latter walking from it. 

“ I was going in search of you, began Mr Apperly. A 
gentleman down here has need of the services of a detective 
officer. Could you act for him V’ 

Yes; for the business that brought me down is so far over 
that I am no longer needed, and have now quitted the Castle; 
what is it?^^ 

“ I must premise that 'you will have to act against Lord 
Dane, though in what manner I do not precisely understand 
myself. Will your private feelings allow you to do so?’^ 

“ An officer must have no private feelings,^ ^ was Mr. Blair^s 
reply. “ Lord Dane demanded a detective from town, and I 
was sent down. My business with him is concluded; and if I 
am required by another party, 1 have neither plea nor wish 
for refusing, whether my services may be put in req^uisition 
against Lord Dane, or against any other lord. Does it relate 
to this business of breaking into the Hall.^ which I confess I 
can not fathom — at least Lydney^s share in it. ” 

“ In a manner it does; and I can fathom it as little as you.^^ 

“ I fancied so. I thought Squire Lester might be calling 
upon me for aid. 

“ I am not the agent of Squire Lester,^ ^ replied the lawyer, 
as he took Mr. Blair to the Sailor ^s Eest. 

Lord Dane was then off the sofa, pacing the room by the 


2G2 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


help of Eavensbird^s arm. The complaint that he labored 
under was an inward one, telling little upon his general ap- 
pearance and his apparent health. 

“ This is Mr. Blair, my lord,^^ said Lawyer Apperly. 

‘‘ Sir,^^ said the peer, stopping in his walking, and facing 
him, ‘‘ I have need of advice and assistance. I have been 
wronged by Herbert Dane — Lord Dane, as he is called-^ 
whom I hear you have been visiting. Can you aid mer^^ 

“ I have no doubt I can,^^ was Mr. Blair^s reply; ‘‘ at least 
I can inform you whether anything can be done, if you will 
put me in possession of the circumstances. 

“ Very good. But before I enter upon my tale, which is a 
long one, allow me to inform you that I am Lord Dane. 

The detective gave a sort of cough, impressed with the sud- 
den belief that the gentleman ’before him was laboring under 
a mania, and wanted a keeper rather than a police-officer. 
His eye glanced at Mr. Apperly. 

“ His lordship saj^^s right, observed the latter. “ He is 
the true Lord Dane.^^ 

“ The true, veritable William Henry, Lord Dane, only sur- 
viving son of the old Lord Dane, of whom ^mu may have 
heard, continued the peer. “You look astonished, Mr. 
Blair: I thought police-officers were surprised at nothing. 

“ The present lord has enjoyed the honors so long,” re- 
marked Mr. Blair, recovering himself. “ He is not like one 
who succeeded yesterday. Sir Eichard Mayne himself would 
be surprised at this.^^ 

“I dare say he will be, when he hears of it,^^ returned Lord 
Dane. “ And now for my story — when you will learn how it 
happens that he has enjoyed them.^^ 

Lord Dane seated himself on the sofa, Eavensbird disposing 
the pillows for his support, and then taking his stand by his 
side, while the lawyer and the detective occupied chairs oppo- 
site — and Lord Dane began: 

“You may probably have heard, Mr. Detective, that cap- 
tain the Honorable William Henry Dane, as I was then, went 
over the cliff, one moonlight night, by accident or by treach- 
ery, and lost his life; that his body was turned up by the sea 
some weeks afterward, and buried in the family vault.” 

“ I have heard this,^^ replied Mr. Blair. “ Bruff, the but- 
ler at the Castle, a sociable spirit if encouraged, has been fond 
of visiting my room since my sojourn here, and entertaining 
me with various items of the family’s history. All in good 
faith: he is proud to tell laudatory tales of the Danes. ” 

“ I had been staying at home for some time,” proceeded 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


263 


Lord Dane, “ and was engaged to my mother’s niece and 
ward. Lady Adelaide Errol. I don’t mind telling you, Mr. 
Blair — for you may have lost your head for a woman yourself 
■ — that I was madly and blindly in love with her, fascinated by 
her beauty. I say blindly — had I not been blind, I might have 
seen that her love was given to another. This was the man 
to enlighten me ” — touching Ravensbird’s arm. “ He came 
to me in my chamber one morning, in his true regard for my 
welfare and honor, and warned me that Lady Adelaide was 
deceiving me; that she loved my cousin, Mr. Herbert Dane, 
and that he returned her love. When he went on to say that 
they met almost nightly in the ruins of the chapel — you know 
them: on the edge of the cliff — met for their lovers’ endear- 
ments, their confidential converse, their ridicule and deceit of 
me — then my passion broke forth, and I kicked him, Ravens- 
bird, my faithful friend and servant, down the stairs, dis- 
charging him on the spot. In my blind infatuation for Lady 
Adelaide, I thought he was but traducing her, and 1 visited it 
upon him. What made me more angry than anything, was 
the accusation that she stole out at night to visit the ruins and 
meet her lover — my child -like, gentie Adelaide!” 

“ Danesheld never could come at the cause of quarrel be- 
tween you and Ravensbird,” put in Mr. Apperly, but Lord 
Dane went on. 

“ A friend of mine. Colonel Moncton, had his yacht in the 
harbor. I had dined with him on board the previous evening, 
and on this morning lie came up to call at the Castle. I 
walked out with him afterward, and was showinsr him the 
locality. We went into the ruins, and there I picked up a 
small bow of pink ribbon, whose center was a pearl, which I 
knew Lady Adelaide had worn on the front of her dress the 
previous evening, for I had seen her dressed for dinner before 
I went down to the yacht. All in an instant it flashed upon 
me that Ravensbird had told me the truth — for, unless she had 
visited the ruins the previous night, .the bow could not have 
come there. My blood was boiling over, and I determined 
that not a day should pass, before I had it out. I met Her- 
bert Dane, and told him I should step into his house to smoke 
a cigar that evening; intending in my own mind to tax him 
with the treachery. ” 

“ He said he was expecting you,” again interrupted Mr. 
Apperly. “And we found him at home, waiting for you, 
after your fall from the cliff.” 

“ Not luaiting for me,” significantly returned Lord Dane. 
“ Evening came. I had promised Moncton to dine onboard 


264 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


and say farewell, for the yacht was to sail with the tide. I did 
not go. I had brooded over my wrongs all the afternoon, and 
felt in no fit state even for Moncton's society, and I dined at 
home, with Lord and Lady Dane, and Adelaide; we had no 
guests that evening. After dinner I took my way to the 
ruins, resolved to watch the meeting between them, should 
there be one. I felt half mad to think that I had been so 
gulled; to know that Adelaide had but tampered with me; to 
feel that her love was another's. Inside the ruins I waited, 
and presently I saw Herbert Dane come stealing over the 
grass, keeping as much in the shade as he could, for I think 
the moon was never brighter. Cautiously he came up, came 
inside, and all but touched me, as I stood close to one of the 
apertures. Whether he heard my breathing, whether I made 
any movement, I don't know, but he evidently became aware 
that some one v/as there. He took it to be her for whom he 
waited; ‘ Adelaide, my dearest, is it you?' he whispered — and 
the words unnerved me. In my passionate rage I seized hold of 
him and shook him; I reproached him with his base treachery; 
I told him he should fight me on the next day. He retorted — 
and quarreling vehemently, we made our way outside the 
ruins, close to the edge of the cliff. There it came to a 
struggle, and there I saw Lady Adelaide, who must have come 
up meanwhile, quickly step out of the ruins, and gaze at us. 
In the same moment, we got on the edge, and I lost my foot- 
ing, and fell — " 

“ Then it was Herbert Dane who flung you over?'” eagerly 
inquired Mr. Apperly, in his eagerness. “We have never 
known whom to suspect. " 

“ It was Herbert Dane. I do not think it was purposely 
done. He was trying to fling me to the ground, but not over 
the cliff; I was trying to fling him, and I lost my footing I 
say, and fell. In the instant of the fall my ear caught LSy 
Adelaide's shrill scream." 

“ She ran screaming back to the Castle half dead with ter- 
ror," exclaimed Mr. Apperly, whose mercurial temperament 
could not be still. “ But she did not recognize either you or 
Herbert Dane." 

“ She recognized us both," returned Lord Dane; “ it is ab- 
surd to suppose otherwise. It was light as day, I say. I know 
that she denied it; I have talked it all over with Eavensbird, 
over and over again since I lay here, and I say that Lady Ade- 
laide must have recognized us. Love for Herbert Dane may 
have kept her silent; or fear lest her own name should be 
brought in did she betray that it was with him I struggled. I 


LABY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


265 


hear that, after this, she refused to continue her friendship 
with Herbert Dane. I am glad she had so much grace. ” 

‘‘ She may have looked upon him as a murderer in intention 
as well as in actuality. Most persons thought the murderer 
was a packman.” 

“ Oh, that packman was nothing,” said Lord Dane. As 
I was crossing the heights to the ruins some fellow accosted 
me, opened a small box or tray of wares, and importuned me 
to buy. I refused, harshly enough, I dare say, for I was in 
no mood of suavity, and the fellow grew loud and insulting. 
I promised him if he did not be off I would call forth the serv- 
ants from my father’s Castle to convey him and his pack to 
the lockup, and away he hurried.” 

‘‘ And how were you rescued after the fall?” again began 
Mr. Apperly, while the detective sat perfectly silent, as he had 
done from the first. 

“ By one of those interpositions of Providence that no 
doubt come direct from Heaven,” solemnly repeated Lord 
Dane. “ Moncton, disappointed of seeing me on board, anx- 
ious to bid me farewell, caused his yacht to heave-to, when 
she was abreast of the Castle, put off in the boat, with a hand , 
and came to the very spot where I was lying, intending to 
seek me at the Castle. Now, mark you, he was not well 
acquainted with the coast, and he mistook this small spot of 
beach for the larger one above, where steps wind up the cliff; 
what do you call that but Providence? He found me lying 
there insensible; he thought dead; and he found that there 
was no road to the heights from that place. He put me in the 
boat with the help of the sailor, and they pulled back to the 
yacht. I revived. I was very much bruised and hurt, but no 
bones were broken. They had a surgeon on board, a young 
man who had come with them from the States for what he 
called a spree. Moncton was for putting the yacht back to 
port, but I — smarting under the infamous deceit of Lady Ade- 
laide — preferred to go on with him on the voyage. I did not 
care if England never saw me again, and the further I was 
away from it the better. The yacht touched here and touched 
there, reaching the States at last, long before I was well; in 
fact this complaint that I am dying from was no doubt in- 
duced by that fall. 1 ought to have written to them at home, 
at least to tell them that I was in the land of the living, but I 
put it off and put it off, and the next thing that overtook me 
was a fever; a long, nervous fever, rendering me incapable in 
mind and in body. When I was sufficiently well to hear the 
news, Moncton informed me of the death of my mother; he 


266 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


had seen it in the papers many weeks back; had kept them, 
now put them into my hand. ‘ I must write to my father 
now/ I said to him, but that very same day fresh newspapers 
came in, bringing accounts of the death of Lord Dane. ” 

“ Ah! they were not long apart,” said Mr. Apperly. “ My 
lord went off quite sudden at the last, and never signed his 
will. Mr. Herbert succeeded then.” 

Yes, Herbert succeeded,” replied Lord Dane, with emo- 
tion, “ but I never suspected that he did. I saw mentioned 
occasionally in the English journals, ‘ Geoffry, Lord Dane,’ 
and it never occurred to me that it was other than my brother 
Geoffry, the direct heir. Had I known it was Herbert, and 
that I myself was the true Lord Dane, the first and fastest 
steamer would have brought me over. I had not been friend- 
ly with my brother Geoffry; he was overbearing and tyran- 
nical, and I did not care to return, neither did I care to write. 
England had lost her attractions for me, and I had ceased re- 
lations with her. I knew that I should inherit nothing under 
my father’s will — my fortune had been paid to me when I 
came of age. Therefore, I stayed on, giving no token home 
of my existence, my residence being chiefiy in America, though 
I traveled pretty well over the globe, Europe excepted. When 
I found my health failing, failing probably to a fatal termina- 
tion, then I turned my thoughts to home, and lost no time in 
returning hither. We took our passage in the ‘ Wind,’ eleven 
hundred tons register. New York. She brought us safely to 
this, my own native spot, and wrecked us on it. That was 
strange,” he musingly added, but after a moment’s pause 
went on. “ But for my son’s interest I do not suppose I should 
have troubled the old country again — ” 

“ Your son?” said Mr. Blair, interrupting for the first time. 

“ Y^'es, sir, my son,” returned the narrator, his agitation 
rising. “ The gentleman whom you and Squire Lester and 
Herbert Dane have, between you, ordered into custody to-day 
on a charge of midnight plundering, he is my son.” 

“He! William Lydney!” continued the inspector, aston- 
ished for once in his life. 

“ He, and no other, sir. He is the honorable William 
Dane, one of your future peers. Do you think lie broke into 
George Lester’s house?” 

“By Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Blair, surprised out of his 
equanimity. 

“ I had never lighted upon any account of the marriage of 
Lord Dane (always supposing it to be my brother Geoffry), 
and, failing in children of his own, of course William was his 


LADY ADEIAIDF/S OATH. 


267 


heir, after me; for that reason, and to establish his rights, I 
came home. We were wrecked — and saved; all that we had 
with us went down, save a few papers and letters in William^s 
pockets, who was dressed when the catastrophe occurred, 
sufficient to establish our identity with the agents in London 
of our American bankers; otherwise we might have been at a 
temporary strait for money here — 

“ Never, my loi*d,^^ put in Ravensbird, “ so far as my nar- 
row means could prevent it.^^ 

“ Knowing me for Lord Dane, perhaps not, Ravensbird,^^ 
smiled liis master. ‘‘ But you might not have been so ready 
to help two distressed unknown shipwrecked travelers. 

“ My lord,^^ spoke Mr. Apperly, who was dying to have his 
curiosity gratified, “ how does that young gentleman come to 
be your son? You must have made an early marriage. 

“ I did make an early marriage,^ ^ replied Lord Dane. ‘‘ I 
was not much more than of age. I married the daughter of a 
French merchant and banker, who had settled in the States, 
and I married her in secret. Her father had a bitter prejudice 
against the English, arising from a grievous wrong done to his 
family by an English officer in the time of the Napoleon war. 
I was an English officer, and he told her plainly he would 
rather see her in her grave than my wife. On my own side, I 
knew that my family, always a haughty one, would never 
sanction my alliance with a merchant’s daughter, and the re- 
sult was that we married in secret, and contrived to keep it a 
secret. My wife lived on, unsuspected, at her father’s home, 
making plausible absences from it occasionally. During one 
of these William was born, and was christened Geoft'ry William 
Lydney. As the boy grew he as introduced by my wife to her 
father’s house as the child of a friend, and from that time there 
was no difficulty in her having him there much, for the old 
gentleman grew to like him, and to ask for him. Still, we did 
not dare teU our secret, and the years passed on. We waited 
patiently for the time that death, in the course of nature, 
would take him, and release us from our bondage. Alas, death 
came, as it often does come, where it is not expected. The 
old gentleman died; that was expected, leaving his accumu- 
lated riches to his daughter; but ere we had well declared our 
position, and inherited, she also died; died from a neglected 
cold. After the lapse of a few months, I came on a visit to 
England, and to my father’s at Dane Castle, and there my 
senses became in thralled by the charms of Lady Adelaide. I 
did not tell Lord and Lady Dane of my marriage, or of my 
boy; I had no particular motive for the reticence, save that I 


268 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


felt a constant unwillingness to enter upon it. You must re- 
member that I was not the heir, my brother Geoff ry’s was a 
good life, and I never cast a thought to the probability of in- 
heriting. Had I done so I should have been the first to de- 
clare that I had a son. I did tell Adelaide. In one of our 
confidential interviews I told her I had made an early and 
secret marriage, and that my wife was dead. I bound her in 
honor to secrecy, and so far as I know, she has observed it. I 
did not mention William; a feeling prompted me not to; but 
I meant to have told her of him before we married. Will- 
iam’s very large fortune in his own right, inherited from his 
m other, would jDrevent any jealous unpleasantness on pecuniary 
scores. How you perceive how it is that William Lydney — as 
he has called himself here — is my son. ” 

“ It’s like the winding up of a comedy,” cried Mr. Apperly. 

“The comedy’s not wound up yet,” retorted Lord Dane. 
“ And now, Mr. Detective,” he added, turning to that gentle- 
man, “ I come to the part that more particularly concerns 
you. There was cast up from the wreck a box, which was 
claimed by William — a japanned box, with the initials 
‘ V.V.V.’ upon it, surmounted by a Maltese cross. While he 
came here to get assistance to remove it, my Lord Dane goes 
on the beach, sees the box, and orders it up to the Castle. 
Why did he do this?” 

Lord Dane stopped, but his question was not answered. 

“ Because he recognized it; recognized it as my mother’s 
box — one that she had given me when I first went abroad. 
There is not the slightest doubt that he must have known it 
again, for he had seen it many and many a score of times at 
the Castle in earlier days; and Mitchel, whom Eavensbird 
questioned, says that he appeared struck with its appearance. 
The initials stood for her maiden pame, Verena Vincent Ver- 
ner. General Vincent having been her uncle : and the Maltese 
cross had been added to them, in a freak, by her brother, 
young Verner. He had borrowed the box of her, and when it 
came back it was embellished with the cross. This box she 
gave to me when I was going out with my regiment, and the 
very day I was putting my papers and best treasures in it, 
Herbert Dane stood by and helped me. Yes, he recognized 
the box, and that’s why he laid his hasty hands upon it and 
sent it to the Castle. ” 

Mr. Blair drew his chair a few inches nearer Lord Dane. 
His part was indeed beginning now, and the plot was getting 
interesting. 

“ What he may have feared, what he may have thought, I 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


269 


do not pretend to say, when he saw it on the beach. He may 
have arrived at a doubt whether I was not yet alive; or he 
may have feared that some one was bringing my effects to 
England, and was preparing to denourice him as my destroyer. 
I say I can not fathom his precise thoughts and motives, but 
that he holds that box securely housed in the Castle — unless 
he has destroyed it and its contents with it — is my unshakable 
conviction. 

“ Permit me,^^ said Mr. Blair, interposing. “ Will youi 
lordship inform me what its contents were?^^ 

‘‘ They were varied, sir. Papers and documents relating to 
my property in America, for my- money is invested there, and 
to that of my son. My will was also in it. All these can be 
replaced: but what I fear can never be replaced, are the testa- 
mentary papers relating to my marriage and to my son's 
birth. The clergyman who united us is dead, the witnesses 
are dead: altogether, if these are lost, I might never be able 
to prove, to the satisfaction of British law, that William is my 
veritable, legitimate son. See you not how valuable the sup- 
pression of them would be to Herbert Dane? I can not last 
long, and failing the proof of William's title, he would be the 
next baron by right of law. " 

The detective nodded his head; he saw it all now clearly. 

“ That box has been the cause of my remaining on in this 
house in secrecy and seclusion," continued Lord Dane. “ I 
never intended, you may be sure, to return home otherwise 
than openly, than as my own proper self: but the moment the 
life-beat had saved us — for which we may thank young Lester 
— came the knowledge that the box was lost, and all else we 
had had with us. I told William that night it would be better 
to remain incog, for a time, till we could see what must be 
done. I did not choosy, you see, to bring him home and in- 
troduce him as my son and heir, without being able to prove 
the fact, were I challenged to do it. Then burst upon me the 
knowledge that my own brother had long been dead, and that 
he who reigned as the baron was Herbert Dane. All the more 
cause for my going to work cautiously. The box at present 
may be intact; at any rate, not destroyed; but were I to make 
a stir, and it came to his knowledge that I am here, and that 
William is my son, he might burn the contents wholesale." 

I understood that the Castle had been thoroughly searched, 
and that no such box was there," observed Mr. Blair. 

‘‘So did I," said Lord Dane. “ William brought me home 
the news from the police-inspector, and it has troubled me 
much. But for that I might have gone about matters in a 


270 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


bolder manner. THe fact is, I have been ill all along, in 
daily hopes of getting better, and I put it off until I should be 
so. It appears now that I never shall be.-’^ 

The chances are that he has removed it from the Castle, 
mused Mr. Blair. “ Young told me the search was as efficient 
as he could make it. But again, it was, by all accounts, very 
heavy, and he must have had help to do this: would he rist 
that, under the noise that has been made? I suppose, he 
continued, stroking his chin, and speaking half in a soliloquy, 
half as a question, to Lord Dane, that there are no secret 
hiding-places in the Castle? 

“ I can not say ; if there are, I do not know of them,^^ was 
the emphatic answer of Lord Dane. “ I never heard the sup- 
position mentioned till the other day. William came in con- 
tact with Ben Beecher — a loose, devil-may-care set those 
Beechers always were — and, by something that accidentally 
transpired, William thought Beecher or his companions had 
been concerned in the abstraction of the box, and that through 
Beecher he might get it again. It came to nothing, but he 
has met Beecher occasionally since — the box, mind you, being 
the object — and the man persists in it to him that there are 
secret places in the Castle, old Beecher vouching for it. 

“ I know of one,^ observed Mr. Apperly, while they all 
turned to him with interest. “ In the strong-room — 

“ Which do you call the strong-room?^^ interrupted Lord 
Dane. 

“ The death-room, as it was in your time, my lord; but the 
present owner of the Castle chose to change the name, not 
liking, possibly, the associations the word death gave, as con- 
nected with your supposed fate. In the trestle-closet in that 
room there is a hidden spring; press it, and the side of the 
closet slowly opens like a door : plenty of space there to conceal 
anything. It came to my knowledge by accident. I went to 
the death-room once in search of the old Lord Dane, and he, 
not expecting me or any one else, had the place open. He 
commanded my secrecy: tradition went that the Castle had 
once — it was in his grandfather^s time — been a refuge for the 
booty of smugglers, and his lordship, honorable and haughty, 
liked not that coloring should be added to the tale. I in- 
formed the present lord of that place — I mean Mr. Herbert.’’^ 

‘‘ YonV^ 

“ I did, my lord. It was just after he came into the title. 
We were speaking of the Castle and its rooms, and I told him 
of that hiding-spot, and showed it to him. He was the only 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 271 

legitimate lord, as I believed, and had more right to the secret 
than I.” 

“ Then, by Heaven, that’s where my box is!” uttered J^ord 
Dane, rising from his seat in excitement. “ And now what’s 
to be done?” he feverishly asked of the detective. ‘‘ Plenty 
of clew to work upon now.” 

“ Your lordship must give me a few hours for deliberation. 
As you have observed, we must act cautiously, lest he become 
alarmed and destroy it. We might get a search- warrant for 
the Castle, but he is the lord-lieutenant still, and might can- 
cel it. None in the county possess his authority. There is 
no immediate hurry for to-day, and I must mature my plans. 
It may be necessary for me to apply to Sir Richard Mayne.” 

‘‘And my son?” imperiously spoke Lord Dane. “ Will 
you suffer him to remain in custody?” 

“ That he can not be guilty is perfectly clear to my mind,” 
returned Mr. Blair, “ and I will release him on my own re- 
sponsibility, provided he shall satisfactorily account to me for 
his presence at Mr. Lester’s with those men last night. Can 
your lordship explain it?” 

“ No, I can not,” replied Lord Dane. “ I will drop a few 
penciled words to him, and tell him to confide in you. He 
do it. ” 

“ In all security. He may tell me as a friend, not as a de- 
tective. ” 

The words were written, and Mr. Blair departed with them 
to the police-station, leaving his lordship, the lawyer, and 
Ravensbird setting their wits to work over the box and the 
hiding-place. 


A CHAPTER. XXVI. 

THE HEIR OF DAHE. 

W^ILLIAM Lydhey sat quietly enough in the strong-room of 
the station expecting a visitor. He had requested to be allowed 
an interview with his landlord. Ravensbird and Inspector 
Young had appeared to acquiesce, and to send a messenger for 
him. In point of fact the messenger was dispatched to the 
Castle to inquire Lord Dane’s pleasure on the subject. The 
door opened, and William Lydney rose in expectation, but ho 
saw only the stranger who had been at Lord Dane’s side that 
morning at the examination — the London banker. 

“I bring you a line from Lord Dane,” began Mr. Blair, 
putting the folded paper in his hand. 


272 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


William looked at it and then at his visitor. 

‘‘ From whom did you say?" 

From the true Lord Dane/' was the whispered answer. 
“ And I believe I have now the honor of speaking to the fut- 
ure lord. Your father, in that note, bids you confide in me — 
he has done so. Perhaps it may be in my power to order your 
release. " 

‘‘ But what can you possibly have to do with it?" ex- 
claimed young Lydney. “ You are a friend of — of him at the 
Castle; his town banker." 

“ You have been flourishing in Danesheld under false 
colors, Mr. Dane; so have I. I am not Lord Dane's (the title 
will slip out) banker, and how the report got wind is more 
than I can say. I am one of the chief detective officers of the 
police force. Your father has called in my aid to assist him, 
and I am ready to assist you. First of all, what did bring you 
to Mr. Lester's with those companions last night?" 

“ I can not explain; I can not tell you anything about it," 
was the quick response. 

Mr. Blair looked at him, doubts arising. 

“ You could not have broken in with those men for a nefar- 
ious purpose, surely!" he slowly debated, feeling very unpleas- 
antly perplexed in his own mind. 

“ I!" returned William Dane, as haughtily as any Dane had 
ever spoken. “You intimated but now your cognizance of 
my rank; I do not forget it, I assure you, or yet disgrace it, " 

“ Will you give me your reasons for not confiding in me?" 

“ I do not know that I need object to that," said William, 
after deliberating. “ I could not prove my own innocence 
without compromising another. " 

“ I told your father you might confide in me as a friend, 
not as a detective officer. Do so that 1 may be enabled to 
assist you; and I declare to you upon my sacred word that 
what you may tell me of any other party shall remain locked 
up in my own breast — it shall never be used against them." 

“ Never be spoken of? never betrayed?" 

“ Never, so long as I breathe, unless by your permission. 

I am not retained to work out this business at Mr. Lester's; it 
is nothing more to me than to any idle spectator, therefore I 
can safely give you the promise. Let me know the whole, 
from beginning to end. A curious suspicion has occurred to 
me more than once, having its rise from some words dropped 
last night by that respectable member of society. Shad. Is it 
possible that Mr. Lester's son has been the actor in this, and 
not you; that the woman-servant — Tiffie, or whatever her 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


273 


name is — mistook you for him in the confusion; and that you 
have been bearing the stigma to screen him?" 

William Dane saw that it would be the best plan to confide 
the whole truth to Mr. Blair; and he did so. That Wilfred 
Lester was indeed the culprit, and that he had rushed in after 
him, having waited for him in vain near the Castle, through 
Shad's tale, rushed in, hoping to bring him to liis senses and 
rescue him from his alarming danger. He gave the history of 
the deed as the motive of the inbreak, not plunder; he told 
that the object had been accomplished, and the deed was then 
in AVilf red's possession, unsuspected by Mr. Lester. It was 
AVilliam Dane who, finding Lester amidst the shrubs, had torn 
the crape from his face and seen him into his home. 

You see," he concluded, “ I can not declare these facts 
without awfully compromising Wilfred Lester; and it is not 
my intention to do that." 

“ The facts must be confided to Squire Lester, and he must 

^ f don't krmw. He is very bitter against his son. If he 
knew me for the true heir to Dane, I might have some influ- 
ence with him," continued AVilliam, smiling, ‘‘and it should 
certainly be exerted for Wilfred. It may be better to wait 
and see what will turn up so long as AVilfred is not suspect- 
ed." 

“You seem wonderfully easy under your own incarcera- 
tion," observed Mr. Blair, gazing on his handsome face. 

“A man with his conscience at peace, is generally easy 
under most circumstances. And as to the accusation — pshaw! 
I need only point my finger and say there is the true Lord 
Dane at Eavensbird's, come home to assume his rights, and 
you may know me for his son; Danesheld would soon scatter 
the accusation to the winds. " 

“ I think I can do that," said Mr. Blair. “ Come with 
me." 

He led the way into the general oflice, where sat Inspector 
Young on his usual stool writing. At the same moment the 
messenger who had been dispatched to Dane Castle, entered. 

“ Did you see his lordship?" inquired the inspector of the 
latter. 

“ Yes. And he says no person whatever, especially Kavens- 
bird, is to be admitted to the prisoner. " 

“ The interdict will not be necessary," coolly observed Mr. 
Blair, as he turned to the inspector. Young, I am about to 
relieve you of your charge. This gentleman must be set at 


274 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


The inspector stood in mute consternation. 

“ Whereas the warrant for it?^-’ he presently ejaculated. 

“ Your warrant is that you are bound to obey my orders/^ 
said Mr. Blair. “Let that be your answer to any one who 
has the authority to question you.^^ 

Mr. Blair opened the door and bowed slightly, with every 
mark of respect as Lydney passed him. Had the inspector 
possessed ten eyes, they could not have stared away his aston- 
ishment; it was not lessened when Lydney, laughing and look- 
ing back, spoke: 

“ I will not cherish resentment against you, inspector, for 
holding me your prisoner. But the day may come when you 
will thank your stars for not having made an enemy of me. 
Better for your self-interest that you made one of my Lord 
Dane. ” 

As Mr. Blair and the ex-prisoner left the town behind them, 
and were nearing the Sailor^s Best, who should come full upon 
them, in a not very frequented part of the road, but Lord 
Dane. He was swinging down from the Castle to the station 
to enforce his prohibition personally against any one ^s being 
admitted to the prisoner. To describe his amazement when 
he saw Lydney free and at large would be difficult; he gazed, 
and rubbed his eyes, and gazed again, believing his vision 
must be deceiving him. 

“ AVhat is the meaning of this? what brings that man here 
at liberty?^^ demanded he, fiercely of Mr. Blair. The latter 
signed to his lordship that he would speak to him privately; 
and Lydney slightly raising his hat, which motion Lord Dane 
might take as one meant in courtesy or mockery, just which- 
ever he pleased, strolled gently on. 

“ Circumstances have come to my knowledge since the ex- 
amination this morning, my lord, which render it inexpedient 
that Mr. Lydney should be kept in custody. I have deemed 
it my duty to release him.^^ 

“ What on earth do you mean ejaculated Lord Dane. 
“ ‘ Circumstances!’ ” 

“ They have, indeed. Mr. Lydney is no more guilty than 
you or 1. I hnoio it, my lord.” 

“ I think you must be mad,” returned Lord Dane, in his 
anger. “ It was proved beyond doubt that he was guilty; 
Tiffle proved it; Shad proved it; the piece of letter Shad found 
the first night — ” 

“ The letter is explained,” interrupted the detective. “ It 
was not written to any poacher; it was written to a gentleman 
in the neighborhood, Mr. Wilfred Lester, who must have 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 275 

dropped it out of his pocket in the woods, using part of it 
probably for wadding for his gun.^^ 

“ Do you remember that, in thus releasing him, that you 
have set my warrant, my authority at defiance resumed 
Lord Dane. “ Have you forgotten who I am?^^ 

“ Ho, certainly, I have not forgotten. But my duty was 
plain before me, and I could but act upon it. I am only re- 
sponsible, my lord, to one person, and that is my chief. Sir 
iBchard Mayne. I am prepared to lay m}^ motives before Sir 
Richard, and I am certain that he will approve them, and say 
I did right to release Mr. Lydney.^^ 

Lord Dane felt staggered. He knew how high in the force 
Mr. Blair was, and that he was a clever, prudent man. 

“ What are the circumstances you speak of — that could in- 
duce you thus to actr^^ he asked, in a less haughty tone. 

I am not at liberty to relate them save to Sir Richard 
only; but I can assure your lordship they are such as to justify 
me. Certain private facts have been disclosed to me in my 
official capacity, and I have acted upon them.^^ 

“ How dared Young connive at the escape of the prisoner 
while he held my warrant for detaining him?^^ foamed Lord 
Dane. “ He shall suffer for it.^^ 

“ Young had no choice, my lord. When I issue orders he 
has not the power to.disobey.^’ 

‘‘ I shall go this instant and order him to take that thief, 
Lydney, into custody again, cried Lord Dane. 

“I must submit — with all due respect to your lordship — 
that it will be waste of time fof you to do so. So long as I am 
here I am chief of the police force, and Young is as my serv- 
ant."" 

Lord Dane felt beaten on all sides. Hever, since he became 
Lord Dane, had he been so bearded. Hastily determining to 
pour out the full grievance before Squire Lester, whom he 
looked upon as more injured than himself in the proceeding 
and quite as much insulted, he turned on his heel to retrace 
his steps, vouchsafing no further word to Mr. Blair — and then 
his eyes lighted on a sight which did not tend to restore his 
temper to equanimity. Bending down till his face was nearly 
on a level with hers and her hand retained in his stood Lyd- 
ney, talking to Maria Lester. 

Away strode Lord Dane in his fury. Scarcely knowing 
what he did, he would have pulled Maria from her companion 
with words of cutting insult to Lydney and of reproach to 
Maria for ‘‘ degrading herself."" 

‘‘I beg your pardon. Lord Dane,"" William said, calmly 


276 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


putting him aside and shielding Maria. Allow me. Miss 
Lester. I am quite capable of taking care of you. 

What would your father say? — to see you thus lower your- 
self to his level, Maria? asked Lord Dane, controlling his 
voice to her. “An associate of dark villains, a midnight 
housebreaker. It is indeed fitting society for Miss Lester!'^ 

Maria was exceedingly agitated, but she looked up at Lord 
Dane and spoke words of denial. 

“ He is not that: you do not know what you are saying. 

“I heard he was cajoling Miss Lester to some purpose, 
retorted Lord Dane in his anger; “ that he had nearly pre- 
vailed on her to forget social ties and decency, and unite her 
fate to his! I shall begin to believe it.^^ 

“As your lordship has entered upon the topic, I may as 
well avow that the first hope of my life is that Miss Lester 
shall some time unite her fate to mine,^^ he coolly said, while 
Maria fell into pitiable embarrassment. “ Should she intrust 
her lifers future to me she. shall find happiness, so far as I can 
make it. I may be able' to effect that better than your lord- 
ship would. Maria,^^ he added, turning to her and clasping 
her hands in his emotion, “ I can not yet explain; but you 
will trust me still?” 

“ Yes,^^ she answered, in the impulse of her heart's affec- 
tion, “ I repeat that I will trust you still and forever. Let 
the whole world forsake you and speak ill of you I will not. 
Lord Dane, you have provoked me to say this; you did not 
know what you are doing when you accuse him of house- 
breaking. ” 

“ Do you know, young lady,” began Lord Dane, his lips 
turning rather livid, “ that this style of conversation, of heroic 
avowalj is very like a taint on the future Lady Dane? Do not 
fancy I shall give up my bride to a criminal adventurer, al- 
though she may have been duped into a passing fancy for 
him. ” 

“ She shall be no bride of yours. Lord Dane," said William, 
a radiant expression lighting his countenance. “ Not at least 
if I can prevent it, and I think I shall have her voice on my 
side. Be firm, my darling," he whispered, bending lower; 
“ put your trust in me and believe that I will make good all 
the words I have ever said to you. Though, indeed,” he 
called out, as he walked away with Mr. Blair, who had come 
up, “ should things turn out as — as — they may, there does, I 
fear, stand a chance that you may be Lady Dane.” 

Maria could neither understand the words nor the expres- 
sion of his face, save that it spoke of deep, earnest love for 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 277 

her. She turned toward her home; and Lord Dane, all fire, 
strode by her side. 

- No, no; I will never mistrust him,” Maria was repeating 
over to her own heart. “ The instinct that attracted me to 
him at first, whispering me that I might confide in him as I 
would in myself, that he was true as steel, stands by me still. 
Let the whole world turn against him, I will not. Was it 
unmaidenly to say what I did? Lord Dane should not have 
provoked me; and this dreadful fear, which I dare not men- 
tion, as to the real truth of last night’s work, is terrifying me 
beyond control. Lord Dane is rich, powerful, and he is Will- 
iam Lydney’s enemy; but God’s mercy is over all.” 

At the outer gate of Danesheld Hall they met Squire Les- 
ter, who appeared somewhat perturbed. 

‘‘ Dane, have you heard this extraordinary news?” he 
began, when he was still some yards from them. “ One of 
my servants declares that Lydney is at liberty and walking 
about unmolested; he ran home hastily to tell me.” 

“ He is at liberty,” said Lord Dane, arresting his steps. 
Maria stopped also. “ I was coming to inform you. The 
police have set him at liberty on their own responsibility. ” 

Squire Lester looked as though he could not understand. 
The police set at liberty a prisoner who had broken into his 
house and been committed by Lord Dane? What could the 
world be coming to? 

“ And the first use he made of his liberty was to dare to 
stop Maria in the street, take her hand, and converse with her 
in private,” resumed Lord Dane. “ Mr. Lester, I beg you to 
allmv for my thus speaking to you. You have sanctioned my 
addresses to your daughter, and that must be my excuse. 
Surely this intimacy with a banned man is neither seemly for 
her as Miss Lester, or as my future wife. Had she permitted 
me to remonstrate against it I should not have called upon you 
to do so.” 

“ How could you, for shame, suffer him to speak to you?” 
demanded Mr. Lester, turning his angry face on Maria. 

Papa,” she answered in a low tone, “he is not guilty; he 
is not what you think him. ” 

“ Your warrant for saying so, young lady?” Mr. Lester con- 
tempt uou sly re j oined. 

“ I have none that I can give. I have only the conviction 
of my own heart,” she answered, much distressed. 

“ The conviction of your own folly,” retorted Mr. Lester. 
“ Am I to have two disobedient children? Go to your room. 
Miss Lester, and spell over the word ‘disgrace.’ Do not 


278 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


come from it until you can tell me you will eschew it. I am 
proceeding to the police-station; and you had better accom- 
pany me/^ he added to Lord l)ane. “ If the police dare to 
beard me I will convey this man to the county prison myself. 
Last night^s work shall be investigated. 

“ Oh, papa, don^t, don^t!^^ uttered Maria, clinging to him 
as if to hold him back as she burst into tears. “ You don^t 
know what you may do — what dreadful secrets it might bring 
to light. Has it never struck you that some one else may 
have been concerned in this instead of Mr. Lydney?^^ 

“ Why, what do you mean?^^ exclaimed Mr. Lester, in con- 
sternation. ‘‘ Are you going mad?^^ ■ 

‘‘ I dare not say what I mean — I dare not say it. But, 
papa, if you have any regard for your own honor and happi- 
ness you will not press for an investigation into last night^s 
work.^^ 

She retreated toward the house as she spoke, sobbing griev- 
ously. Mr. Lester looked after her in angry perplexity. 

“ What does she mean? Is she really mad? or can she have 
become so inthralled by that cursed adventurer as to fear his 
being brought to public punishment?’^ soliloquized Mr. Les- 
ter, while Lord Dane tossed his haughty head and curled his 
lip with withering scorn. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE TKESTLE CLOSET. — MARIA LESTER. 

It was evening, and Lawyer Apperly was walking at a 
strapping pace toward Dane Castle. Not to call upon its 
master — for Lord Dane and Mr. Lester, and several more do7is 
of the vicinity were assembled in Danesheld, at a county- din- 
ner, and the fact was well known. Airing himself at the Cas- 
tle gate in the cold — a pastime he rather favored — was Mr. 
Bruff. He gave the good-evening to the lawyer as the latter 
came up. 

Good-evening, Bruff,” was the response. I want you 
to put on your top-coat and take a walk with me. 

Mr. BrufI was surprised. “ A walk, sir?” 

“ At the request of Lord Dane. He is waiting for 5 ^ou.^’ 

“Waiting for me!” uttered Bruff. “Why, what can he 
want with me? He is not taken ill, is he?” he added more 
quickly — the idea occurring to him. 

“ He is very ill,” gravely responded Mr. Apperly. “ I am 
not sure that he is not ill unto death.” 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


379 


“ For Heaven sake, what’s the matter with him?"" de- 
manded Brutf. “ Where"s he lying? who is with him? Never 
mind my coat. When he stepped into his carriage here, an 
hour ago, he was perfectly well. "" 

“ Now don"t put yourself in a flurry, Bruff,"" returned the 
lawyer; “ ill though he is, that will do him no good. He has 
need of your services and has sent for you. "" 

“ But to be ill unto deathi"" cried Bruff, closing the Castle 
gate and turning toward Danesheld side by side with Mr. Ap- 
perly. “ Mercy prevent anything happening to him! He"s 
the last of the race, and the title would become extinct."" 

“A sad calamity, that,"" remarked Mr. Apperly, taking a 
pinch of snuff. “ You are attached to the Danes, Eruff?"" 

“ It’s only natural that I should be, Mr. Apperly, serving 
them so long. I wonder who would have the Castle then? 
The crown? or Miss Dane?"" 

Neither has got it yet,"" was the lawyer’s rejoinder, in a 
tone of significance. “ But — "" 

“ This news reminds me of the other night,"" broke in Bruff. 
“ 1 was standing at the gate, sir, like you found me to-night, 
only that I was talking to a friend, and my lord came up the 
very image of a corpse, his face and hands a livid blue. I did 
not like to accost him he seemed so scared and strange; he 
looked for all the world like a man who — "" 

“ Had seen a ghost,"" interrupted the lawyer. 

A ghost!"" uttered Bruff, disdainfully. “ Like a man 
who was not many hours off his death-bed, I was going to say. 
Some sudden pain or inward illness must have attacked him; 
perhaps it"s the same thing now. Pray goodness he gets over 
it!"" 

“ I did not fancy you owned any ultra fondness for his lord- 
ship. "" 

“ Not as I did for the past family,"" spoke Bruff, with emo- 
tion; ‘‘ especially for the old lord and for Mr. Harry. I never 
did greatly like Mr. Herbert. But the rest are dead and gone, 
and he is tiord Dane. He is a good master. "" 

“ Could the old family — any one of them — rise from their 
graves to life, should you deem yourself bound to serve them 
or the present lord?"" 

“ Why, the present lord would not he Lord Dane in that 
case,"" debated Bruff, after a minute given to consideration. 

“ Of course he would not."" 

“ I should naturally serve the old family, whichever of them 
it might be,"" returned Bruff. “ But where’s the use of reap- 
ing up impossible speculations, sir?"" 


280 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


“ Very true. Better put forth our best steps to the Sailor^s 
Best. " 

“ The Sailor's Rest!” echoed Bruff, in astonishment. 

“ Have they taken my lord there? What, in the name of 
stupidity, did they do that for? If they moved him at all they 
should have brought him home. " 

Mr. Apperly said little more. Arrived at the Sailor's Rest 
he marshaled Bruff upstairs and introduced him to the cham- 
ber. Bruff cast an impatient glance around; he saw Ravens- 
bird, young Mr. Lydney, and some one seated on the sofa, 
whom he took but a passing glance at. 

‘‘ Where is my lord?" he cried. 

“ There," said Mr. Apperly. 

Lord Dane rose from the sofa, took a few steps alone, and 
stood before Bruff with a smile. Bruff's face grew long as 
he gazed, and he backed against the wall. 

“ Don't you know me, Bruff? I am real flesh and blood." 

“ It — it's the living image of what Mr. Harry once was, save 
the hair!" ejaculated Bruff, staring from one to another in 
hopeless perplexity. But it can't be!" 

“ Yes it can, Bruff. Mr. Harry was not killed by his fall 
over the cliff; and Mr. Harry is alive still. I thought you 
would have known me better." 

The water rushed into Bruff's eyes, and his very hands trem- 
bled with emotion as he knelt down before Lord Dane. 

“My lord! my true and veritable lord! I do know you 
now!" he uttered, the tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“ Old Bruff has lived long enough, now that he will see one 
of the real family reigning at the Castle!" 

Lord Dane extended his hand and bade him rise. 

“ I shall never reign there; and you will not serve me, 
Bruff; for, to the best of my belief, a few days will see me 
where I am supposed to be — in the Castle crypt. But," add- 
ed Lord Dane, motioning his son toward him, and resting his 
hand upon his shoulder, “ I hope you will serve another, as 
truly and loyally as you would serve me. This will be the 
Castle's future lord." 

“ He is—?" 

“ Another Geoffry, Bruff: the Honorable Geoff ry William 
Lydney Dane; he is my only son. Be faithful to him for his 
father's and grandfather's sake." < ^ 

“ I said he w^as a chieftain!" declared Bruff, his delighted \ 
eyes glistening; “ the first time he ever came to the Castle I 
saw he was born to be a chieftain. Miss Dane declared he ' 
was like my lady; she did indeed!" j 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


281 


“ Like my mother? Yes, the resemblance has struck me; 
but he has the high Dane features too. I am dying, Bruff ; 
and I require a service at your hands first. Will you execute 

“ Ay, my lord; anything for you and yours. Though it 
should be to the laying down of my life.” 

“ But, understand, Brnff, it will involve treachery to him 
at the Castle. We must meet treachery with treachery. He 
has been treacherous to me, and now comes my turn. You 
don’t ask who it was sent me over the cliff.” 

Bruff did not ask, even now. A dark suspicion was stealing 
over him. 

“ It was Herbert Dane. But not in treachery. The treach- 
ery touching that lies in his having duped everybody afterward 
by passing himself off ' for innocent and unconscious. It is 
done and over; but something else remains. Where’s that 
box, Bruff?” 

' “ The missing box?” said Bruff, shaking his head. “ My 
lord, I don’t know; I have never known.” 

“ It was my box, Bruff, and my mother’s before me. You 
have seen it many a time. There is not the least doubt that 
Herbert Dane recognized it on the beach and has got rt in the 
Castle. How that box I must obtain. I have a detective at 
work; but it has struck us that you may serve the cause more 
effectually than he; though he seems a keen man, does Blair.” 

Blair! Blair a detective! What does your lordship say?” 

“ Your friend Mr. Blair’s a detective, Bruff, unsuspicious 
of the fact as you may have been. You must get this box for 
us out of the Castle to-night. ” 

Bruff was wandering out to sea again. He did not believe 
the box was or could be in the Castle. Mr. Apperly ex- 
plained, at a sign from Lord Dane. 

‘‘ In the death-room there’s the trestle closet, Bruff; and in 
the trestle closet there’s a secret hiding-place. The box, we 
think, is in it. If found to be there you will get it here by 
stratagem?” 

‘‘Yes, I will,” replied Bruff. “ If the box is my lord’s he 
has a right to it; and I look upon myself as his retainer now 
— not Mr. Herbert’s. ” 

A little conversation, and their plans were put in execution, 
and Apperly proceeded at once to the Castle — a man 
waiting outside it with a truck. Bruff held the keys of the 
death-room, and he admitted Mr. Apperly to it through the 
outer passage, where they were not likely to be met by any of 
the servants; and Lord Dane was safe at the dinner. The 


282 LADY Adelaide’s oath. 

lawyer pressed the spring in the closet, and the side slowly 
opened. 

They found themselves in a room* seven yards square, a room 
where an immense booty could have been stowed away, had 
smugglers ever so willed it. It was empty now, save for one 
small object in the middle — the missing box. 

The missing box open. Lord Dane had contrived to wrench 
back its lid. He had found, however, what he had not bar- 
gained for — an hermetically sealed case inside, which he had 
not yet succeeded m opening. Probably he had wanted tools 
and opportunity; possibly, having it safely in his possession, 
he did not haste to penetrate its contents. 

“ ITl tell you what,” said Bruff. “ He must have lugged 
this in here himself at the moment of its arrival, while I was 
seeing the miller’s men out. Though how he could have had 
the strength to move it is more than I can conceive.” 

“ A desperate man finds strength for anything,” returned 
the lawyer. When he recognized that box as Captain 
Dane’s, the very uncertainty of what was turning up, and 
what should bring it back in England would make him des- 
perate. ‘We shall have a pull to carry it from here to the 
cart. ” 

“ I say, Mr. Apperly,” cried Bruff, in a whisper, “ only to 
think of its having been Mr. Herbert who threw the captain 
over the cliff! Didn’t he dissimulate?” 

“ He could do a paltry trick or two, could Herbert Dane. 
He served me one; it was about the lease of the Sailor’s Rest. 
I accepted Mitchel for tenant, under the old lord’s approba- 
tion, and the deposit was paid; my lord turns it all topsy- 
turvy as soon as he comes into power, gives it to Ravensbird, 
and I had my trouble and some cost for my pains. Steady, 
Bruff; get firm hold of the end. The case is of lead, you see; 
it is that which causes it to be so heavy.” 

Just about the time that they were moving the box, or a lit- 
tle earlier, Maria Lester was quitting her own house for a 
hasty visit to her brother’s. She had not seen her father since 
the afternoon when he ordered her to her room. Whether his 
mandate implied that she was to keep it exclusively until re- 
stored to favor, she did not know; had it been so, she was too 
miserable to obey. That Wilfred had been the real qg^ii- 
nal of the preceding night, she had little doubt, and the fears, 
the distress that haunted her nearly drove her what Mr. 
Lester had called her — mad. She did not dare to hint at her 
suspicions to her father; she believed he might be capable of 
prosecuting Wilfred; but, ever and anon, in the midst of her 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


283 


sick suspense, there would rush over her a vision of hope, of 
brightness — that, after all, she was judging him wrongly; that 
he was not, and could not be guilty of so base a deed. 

Have you ever felt the rack of suspense, reader? How far 
more terrible it is to endure than the actual reality! Then you 
can understand why Maria Lester stole out of her own house, 
almost like a criminal, hoping to gain some tidings, some lit- 
tle word of certainty, whether it might be of good or of evil, 
did she go for five minutes to her brother’s. 

It was dark night, but she took no attendant; was she not 
about to visit her proscribed brother? was she not disobeying 
commands in going out at all? She drew her veil over her 
face, and walked swiftly along. 

Edith was alone when she entered, sitting in her low chair 
by the fire. She was beginning to gain strength and look bet- 
ter; for Sarah contrived in her unaccountable manner to pro- 
cure all sorts of renovating dainties, not excepting wine. 

“Where is Wilfred?” asked Edith, glancing nervously 
round the room. 

“ He has just stepped out to take a walk — expecting, I 
fancy, to meet Mr. Lydney,” replied Edith. “ I do not think 
he is very well. ” 

“Who? Wilfred?” 

“ I mean Wilfred. He has been in quite a nervous state all 
day; actually nervous, Maria. So extraordinary for Wilfred, 
who is naturally careless and calm.” 

“ Nervous in what manner?” asked Maria, her heart beat- 
ing. 

“ Disturbed, restless. When people have come to the door, 
he has started to the kitchen window to peep out and see who 
it might be; once, there was a loud knock; he happened to be 
in the passage, and he came rushing in here and held the door 
to. I asked what he feared? what was the matter? he would 
not speak, but he was certainly agitated. He has seemed all 
day to be frightened at his own shadow.” 

Terrible confirmation I Maria sat on, feeling frightened at 
her own. Mrs. Lester resumed: 

“ Maria, what can be the true meaning — the facts of that 
business last night at the Hall? Wilfred will not say a word. 
Any one would suppose that he might have gone out to-day, 
and learned the details, but he did not. I can never believe 
that Mr. Lydney is guilty; and he has been released from cus- 
tody?” 

“ Yes, he is released,” murmured Maria. 


284 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


‘‘ Upon what grounds? That his innocence has been indis- 
putably proved?" 

“ I do not know. " 

“ Sarah, too, has been in rather a queer way all day," pur- 
sued Edith. ‘‘ When she heard that Mr. Lydney was arrested, 
it put her out unaccountably, for she has taken a wonderful 
fancy to him. And she has seemed as fidgety as Wilfred over 
the knocks at the door, reconnoitering from the window be- 
fore she would open it to any one." 

“Was Wilfred out last night?" inquired Maria, in a low 
tone. 

“ Well, now, that's what I'm unable to tell you. I went to 
bed very early, and fell into one of those sound sleeps from 
which you do not wake easily; I suppose it is my weakness 
sleeping itself off. Wilfred was in bed when I woke this morn- 
ing. I asked him what time he came up, and he said he 
thought the clock had gone eleven. But, Maria, there was a 
tone in his voice which did not sound a true one, and I fan- 
cied he might be deceiving me; so I asked Sarah, and she an- 
swered in that cross way she has, when put out, ‘ What should 
have taken him out?' Between the two I can get at nothing 
satisfactory. " 

Maria rose. In her desperate fear she would have put the 
question plainly to Wilfred could she have seen him, and im- 
plored him to tell her the best and the worst; but it was un- 
certain what time he might come in, and she did not like to 
remain out long, not caring that Lady Adelaide should miss 
her. She wished Edith good-night; and Sarah, hearing her 
departure, went to the front door and opened it. 

‘ ‘ It's quite dark. Miss Lester. Shall I put on my bonnet 
and run with you?" 

“ Oh, no, it will not do to leave your mistress alone, and I 
shall be home in a trice. You don't happen to know which way 
my brother is walking, I suppose, Sarah? I would meet him 
if I could, for I wish to speak to him." 

> “ No, miss, I don't know. I wish I did," she added, in a 
marked manner. 

“ Why?" distinctly asked Maria. 

“ Because I should be apt to go after him and pull him 
home; he is safer at home than out," was the woman's em- 
phatic reply. 

“ Was he out last night?" inquired Maria, speaking in the 
strong impulse of the moment; and she knew that Sarah was 
faithful; she knew also that she- was not blind to the doings 
of Wilfred. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


285 


He was out," answered Sarah, sinking her voice. ‘‘ And 
if he can not be stopped at his game. Miss Lester, he'll come 
to — to — something bM!" 

‘‘ Sarah, I am sure you know all!" she wailed. “ Where 
was he?" 

‘‘ I knew pretty well. Folks must be sharp to deceive me 
where my suspicions are wakened. But it's not for your ears. 
Miss Lester." 

‘‘ My suspicions are awake, too, Sarah— awake to dread, to 
agony," she whispered. “ Tell me what you know. It will 
be more kind to me than the letting me remain in suspense. " 

‘‘ He went out last evening as soon as missis had gone up to 
bed, and he never came in again till two o'clock, or past, and 
it was Mr. Lydney who brought him to the door," said Sarah, 
without further circumlocution. “ I saw his hat this morn- 
ing, Miss Maria." 

His hat! What do you mean?" 

There had been black crape pinned on the inside of it," 
she proceeded. “ It had been torn out, but the pins and the 
edge was left." 

Maria raised her trembling hand to her damp brow. The 
avowal was nothing more than her fears had suggested, but it 
turned her sick and faint. Visions of a felon's bar and he 
standing at it, rose before her eyes, and she felt that she would 
willingly sacrifice herself for Wilfred. 

“ I took the pins out, and I burned the nasty edge of 
crape," added Sarah. “ And I'm sure every knock that has 
come to the door to-day has brought my heart in my mouth^ 
thinking it might be the officers of justice. If this comes out 
to Miss Edith — bother! I'm always forgetting and calling 
her that! — it will just kill her." 

Maria walked away with her shivering dread. In every tree 
she feared an enemy; in every turn of the road an ambush — 
the officers of justice, as Sarah called them, watching for her 
brother. She was in view of her own home, and was passing 
the corner of the wood where Tiffle was wont to favor young 
Shad with her presence, when she came upon a tall, still fig- 
ure, gathered under the shade of the trees. At the first move- 
ment she thought it was Wilfred, and threw up her veil. 

‘‘ Is it you? out here alone?" 

The speaker was William Lydney. He took Maria's hand 
in his, and told her he was looking for her brother, who had 

P romised to meet him somewhere about there that evening, 
ut who did not appear to be in a hurry to remember his ap- 
pointment. 


286 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“I have been to his house/’ she answered, “and, going 
there, did not desire any.of the servants to attend me. I — I — ” 

“ You are ill — or agitated?” he rejoined, perceiving that 
she could scarcely speak. “ Which is it, Maria?” 

“ Both, both!” she uttered, giving vent to the feelings that 
so terribly oppressed her. “ Oh, AA^illiam, tell me the truth 
about last night! The suspense is killing me.” 

“ The truth! You do not doubt me, Maria?” 

“ Doubt you she echoed, clasping his hand between hers 
in her heart’s trust, in her deep agitation. “ I know that 
you are the firmest friend man can possess — that you have 
suffered this guilt to rest upon yourself to shield Wilfred. It 
was he who was the house-breaker last night. He was one of 
those men with the crape on their faces! he had crape on his! 
it has been told to me beyond dispute. I suspect that you fol- 
lowed him in to draw him out of the crime.” 

He did not answer. 

“Will you not let there be confidence so far between us, 
Mr. liydney? It will not betray to me more of my brother 
than I already know. ” 

“ Call me William! Call me William!” he hastily ex- 
claimed. “ The name sounds sweeter to me from your lips 
than it ever did before. You are right. Wilfred did so far 
forget himself as to join those men — or rather get them to 
join him. The knowledge that they had entered the Hall 
came to me in a singular manner, and I made speed to enter 
it also, with the view of getting Wilfred out of it. But I ar- 
rived when the deed was done. Wilfred was already gone. I 
found him, tore the crape from his hat, and saw him safely 
home. That’s the whole truth, Maria.” 

“ And his object? That deed?” 

William nodded. 

“ As I supposed. Did he get it?” 

“He did.” 

“ Papa has not discovered its loss, then?” 

“ No. I gathered that this morning. Had he done so, it 
might have helped him to guess at the real offender.” 

“ And you have generously borne the odium to shield him! 
you are bearing it still. While Danesheld is calling you thief, 
adventurer — turning you from its doors! If they did but 
know what they are doing! and I may not declare it. You 
can never be repaid.” 

“ I am amply repaid now,” he whispered, as he threw his 
arm round Maria’s waist, and drew her beside him. “ Let 
them say of me what they will, so long as you will be my 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


287 


heart’s confidant, and take my part, their words fall on me as 
the idle wind.” 

“ But I can not take it openly.” 

That will, come yet, Maria. A little time, and I may ask 
Mr. Lester to give you to me. ” 

Oh, William, do not speak of it,” she interrupted; “it 
may never come. All this day, since this new and dreadful 
fear has been upon me, touching Wilfred, now it is a certainty, 
I have asked myself whether I ought not to sacrifice myself for 
him.” 

“ Sacrifice yourself in what manner?” 

“ By marrying Lord Dane,” she whispered, throwing her 
two hands before her face, as one does in mortal pain. “ My 
father hinted to me that it should be the means of making his 
peace with Wilfred; he said that on my wedding-day, he would 
restore Wilfred to favor, and allow him an income.” 

For a single minute William Dane held a battle with him- 
self — whether he should not confide to Maria who he really 
was. But he remembered the word passed to his father not to 
breathe a word of his rank until he could assume it, and he 
resisted the temptation. 

“Maria,” he gravely said, “you have trusted me before, 
trust me still. Mr. Lester’s wish that you should become Lord 
Dane’s wife does not arise from any particular love for him, 
but for his rank, his wealth, his social position. I believe 
that, as my wife, your position will not be inferior to what it 
would be as his, and that Mr. Lester will acknowledge the 
fact. Promise me that until the relative merits of rnyseJf and 
Bord Dane can be publicly compared, you will hold yourself 
free. ” 

She lifted her eyes to his in the starlight. “ I do not know 
what there is about you, but you seem to possess the power of 
persuading me against my judgment. I do promise.” 

“ I must have another boon from you yet, Maria — the per- 
mission to speak to Mr. Lester, as soon as I shall find myself 
in a position to do so. Give it me now, and set my heart at 
rest.” 

“But that will imply — it will be giving you — ” Maria 
stopped; she could not get on. 

“ It will imply that I am dearer to you than any one on 
earth; it will be giving me the hope of proving my love and 
gratitude to you throughout my whole life,” he softly whis- 
pered, as he, for the first time, pressed his lips to hers. “ My 
darling, give it me.” 

“ Yes, yes,” she answered, her heart wildly beating. 


288 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


They stood a moment in silence. Maria broke it. 

“ I do not know why I trust you. We were, until recently, 
strangers. I know nothing of who you really are; and yet I 
do revere and confide in you above all, under God. But you 
may say I am lightly won.'^ 

“ When I do say it, then reproach me,^^ he answered, with 
emotion. “With God above us, and those bright stars, his 
witnesses, hear me vow to you, that, truly and fervently as I 
shall undertake to cherish and love you at the altar, so will I 
do it all the more fervently as the years go on. You may 
register the vow, Maria, for it shall be sacredly kept. ’’ 

“Why did you tell me this morning that I might yet be- 
come Lady Dane?^^ 

“Ah! thereby hangs a joke,^^ he laughed. “ Perhaps you 
may have no choice yet. 

“ Choice of what 

“ Choice between becoming my wife and Lady Dane.^^ 

“ William, I can not understand you.’’^ 

“ Not yet, my darling. But you have promised to trust 
me; donT forget that. I will see you to the gate,"'' he added, 
for she was about to move away. 

Maria hesitated, deliberating whether it were better, should 
they be met, that she were seen abroad after dark with Will- 
iam Lydney, or by herself. However, the distance was so 
short that she made no objection. He drew her arm within 
his, and they walked on, slowly enough, it must be confessed. 

We are apt to assure children that they never do a wrong 
thing but they are dropped upon. Just so it happened with 
William Lydney and Maria; though whether they were doing 
anything very -wrong the reader must decide for himself.* 
They had all but reached the gate, when two persons came 
hastily out of it, and faced them — Mr. Apperly and the Lady 
Adelaide Lester. 


CHAPTER XXVIH. 

LADY ADELAIDE’S IKTEBYIEW. 

The box had arrived in triumph at the Sailor’s Rest. Cov- 
ered over with a cloth, that it might not attract attention go- 
ing in, and so set gossips’ tongues to work before their legiti- 
mate time, it was lifted from the truck and up the stairs. 
Lord Dane’s mouth worked convulsively as he saw it, saw 
that the leaden case was intact, for now any doubts that might 
have arisen refiecting on his much-loved son were dispelled 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 289 

forever. He silently leaned back on the sofa, covered his face, 
and gave thanksgiving to God. 

But, just previously to this, William had gone out on the 
fruitless errand of meeting Wilfred Lester, who never came to 
his appointment. He met Maria instead, which was, perhaps, 
to him quite as satisfactory. Anxious enough, though, was 
he to see Wilfred, to get a promise from him, if possible, that 
he would henceforth forswear these disgraceful and dangerous 
escapades — for that was his hope and purpose. The previous 
night, or rather early morning, when he had found Wilfred 
in the shrubs, escaping from his father's house, and had hurried 
him to his home, he asked him to appoint an interview, for 
that was no moment for speaking, and Wilfred had done so 
for the following night after dark. “ Somewhere in the road 
skirting the wood near the Hall," he named; he probably 
feared that a chance word might reach the eais of Edith, did 
he fix it as his own home. It thus happened that when the 
box came in William was absent. 

“ Put it there for security," said Lord Dane, indicating a 
closet at the foot of his bed, “ and give the key into my pos- 
session. That may prove a safer stronghold than the secret 
closet at the Castle; it is certainly a more legitimate one. And 
now, Apperly, do me a favor; go and get Lady Adelaide 
here." 

‘‘ Lady Adelaide Lester! To-night, my lord?’' 

“ I have a fancy for seeing her. 1 shall see everybody by 
degrees, now the box is found. What's the hour?" 

** “ It's between eight and nine. What shall I say to Lady 
Adelaide to induce her to come? And she may not be at 
home." 

“ Anything you please, save telling her who it is that wants 
her. It is the evening of all others that she is likely to be at 
home, and the evening when she could best come. This 
county party takes the husbands, and the wives are solitary." 

Mr. Apperly proceeded to the Hall, and was shown into 
Lady Adelaide's presence, who was alone. He had been con- 
cocting his tale as he went along. What her ladyship should 
think of him afterward, he little heeded; all his business was 
to obey Lord Dane. 

“An old friend of mine come to Danesheld, and lying ill at 
the Sailor's Rest? and wants to see me instantly?" cried Lady 
Adelaide. “ I never heard of such a thing!" 

“ I may go further than an old friend, my lady, and say a 
relation," pursued Mr. Apperly. “ I beg your ladyship not 
to delay; I will attend you thither." 


290 


LADT Adelaide’s oath. 


But I never heard of such a thing,” she repeated. 

However, Mr. Apperly contrived to gain his point, and she 
went out with him. It was at this juncture that they met 
AVilliam Lydney and Maria. 

“ Ah, ha, Mr. William, so we have caught you, have we,” 
cried the lawyer, while Lady Adelaide stood in speechless 
astonishment. “ Beauing about the young ladies, sir. I 
shall acquaint Lord Dane. ” 

How, of course, the words, “ acquaint Lord Dane ” bore 
very different sounds for their several hearers. William only 
laughed; Maria’s pulses beat with confusion; Lady Adelaide, 
in her pride, resented the indecorous familiarity. 

“ Do I see you here. Miss Lester?” she haughtily asked. 
“ And with that man!” 

Maria would have withdrawn her arm from Mr. Lydney’s. 
He would not suffer it; he held her under his protection, and 
stood with her, frank and upright, before Lady Adelaide. 

“ Mamma, I have been to Wilfred’s; I had an urgent reason 
for going,” she said, her voice trembling. “ It was but at the 
corner here, in returning, that I met Mr. Lydney.” 

“ Degenerate girl! you had better take up your abode with 
Wilfred;' two choice cions of one stock!” retorted Lady Ade- 
laide. ‘‘ My house shall not much longer hold you, or my 
children be disgraced by your companionship.” 

“ Your ladyship will at least allow her an asylum a short 
while yet,” spoke William, and his words and tone were harsh 
with mockery. “ Until — ” 

“Until what, may it please you, sir?” asked Lady Ade*- 
laide, in the same bitter tone, for he had paused in hesitation. 

“ I was about to say until Lord Dane shall remove her from 
it,” he replied, bending forward till his face nearly touched 
Lady Adelaide’s, as if he would speak for her ear alone. 

Maria felt utterly confounded at the words, while Mr. Ap- 
perly enjoyed the scene amazingly, and understood the allusion 
to “ Lord Dane. ” He saw how matters stood between the heir 
and Maria Lester. 

“ How dare you presume to speak thus familiarly of Lord 
Dane?” cried Lady Adelaide, in her wrath. “ Unhand that 
young lady, sir. Quit his arm. Miss Lester. Do you hear?” 

“In obedience to you, her step-mother, she shall doit,” 
quietly returned William. 

He released Maria, but continued to walk by her side the 
few steps that intervened between them and the gate. Lady 
Adelaide sailed majestically past them , and rang a violent peal 
on the bell. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


291 


“ Show Miss Lester in-doors/^ she authoritatively cried, as 
one of the men-servants came flying to answer it, “ And now, 
sir, she added, to William, ‘‘have the goodness to remove 
yourself from before the Hall, or you may be breaking into it 
again, as you did last night.” 

“ You will think better of me some time. Lady Adelaide,^^ 
he answered, without the slightest resentment in his tone, as 
he raised his hat and turned away to pursue his path home- 
ward, though not without having first shaken hands with 
Maria. 

“ How is it possible, in the name of common sense, that you 
lawyers and magistrates and people can permit that man 
Lydney to be at large?^^ asked her ladyship, as they walked 
on. 

“ I fancied he was rather a favorite of yours, my lady.^^ 

“A favorite! Well, so he was, before ail these dreadful 
suspicions and things came out against him. But now that 
he is proved to be a black sheep, we can only take shame to 
ourselves for having suffered his companionship.'’^ 

“ Except Miss Lester,-’^ put in the lawyer, who appeared 
somewhat given to aggravation that night. “ She sees no 
shame in his companionship, if one may judge by signs. 

“ Were Miss Lester my own daughter, I should ask by what 
right you dare thus to speak of her to me,” stiffly rejoined 
Lady Adelaide. “ As it is, I wash my hands of her and her 
doings; if she chooses to go unmitigatedly to the bad, as her 
brother has done, by allying herself to this evil character, she 
must do it.^^ 

“ She might go further and fare worse, my lady.^^ 

“ She might — what?” ejaculated Lady Adelaide. 

“ She might go further and fare worse than in allying her- 
self to William Lydney; that is what I said, my lady,” was 
the composed answer of Mr. Apperly. 

“ Of course she might. She might ally herself to Jack 
Ketch, the hangman; rather worse, of the two, than one who 
2 ^robably will come to be hung,” was the vexed retort of my 
lady. 

“ Very true, so it would,” quoth Mr. Apperly. 

“ I expect my madcap brother has arrived in Danesheld, 
and is playing me this trick,” resumed her ladyship, loftily 
quitting the previous topic. “ It would be just like him; to 
send me word he was dying, and then laugh at me when he 
gets me there.” 

“ No, 1 do assure you you are mistaken, my lady. I had the 
honor of seeing the Earl of Kirkdale when he visited Hanes- 


292 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


held; this gentleman does not resemble him in the least; is an 
older man, in fact.” 

Lady Adelaide vouchsafed no reply. She had little doubt 
that it would prove to be the Earl of Kirkdale, and she ob- 
served silence until she entered the Sailor’s Rest. Mrs. 
Ravensbird came forward, full of obeisance to her former 
lady. 

‘‘Sophie,” began Lady Adelaide, walking unceremoniously 
into Sophie’s parlor, “ is it Lord Kirkdale who is here?” 

Sophie was overwhelmed with astonishment. First at the 
Lady Adelaide’s coming there at all; secondly, at her question 
touching the earl. 

“ Lord Kirkdale, my lady!” she repeated. “ His lordship 
has not been here: I don’t know anything of him. ” 

“ Ko! Who is it then that wants me?” 

“ My lady, I am unaware that any one does. I don’t un- 
derstand. We have no strangers staying at the Sailor’s Rest. ” 

“ Don’t come to hasty conclusions, Mrs. Ravensbird,” said 
the lawyer. “ The invalid upstairs has asked to see her lady- 
ship. ” 

‘ Oh!” littered Mrs. Ravensbird: and the accent expressed 
so much consternation, not to say alarm, that Lady Adelaide 
gazed alternately at her and at Mr. Apperly. The latter 
quitted the room. 

“ Sophie, what is this mystery? Who is it that can want 
me?” 

“ Oh, my lady, I can not tell; I dare not. I never thought 
he would be sending for you.” 

“ Will you walk up. Lady Adelaide,” said Mr. Apperly, re- 
entering. “ He is waiting for you. ” 

“ Well, now, that’s a cruel thing,” debated Sophie to her- 
self. “ They ought not to take her without warning. She’ll 
be terrified out of her senses.” Acting on the impulse of the 
moment, she ran forward and touched Lady Adelaide. “ My 
lady,” she whispered, “ be prejiared for alarm — you are going 
to see the dead back in life.” 

Between it all. Lady Adelaide began to wonder whether she 
had lost her senses, or whether they had. She only stared at 
Sophie in reply, and followed Mr. Apperly. 

The first object on which Lady Adelaide’s eyes rested as 
Mr. Apperly threw open the door, was William Lydney. She 
leaped to the conclusion that a hoax was really being played 
upon her, and that he was its perpetrator. He advanced as if 
to receive her, and slightly bowed — indignation flashed forth 
from her eye and lip. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 293 

“ Is this your doing? Did you dare insolently to concoct a 
tale that should bring me from my homer^^ 

“ It was I who sent for you, Adelaide,'’’ interrupted a voice 
behind him. 

She started at the sound: she looked to whence it came. 
There stood, holding out his hands, Harry Dane — if ever she 
had seen him in her life — Harry Dane, who was lying in the 
family vaults, sent thither by her treachery and Herbert’s vio- 
lence. She shrieked, shivered, and would probably have 
fallen, but that 'William was ready with his help. Lord Dane 
advanced, feeble as he was, and held out his arm to lead her 
to the sofa. 

“ You need not be alarmed, Adelaide. It is I, myself, and 
not my ghost. Take my hand and feel it: you have not had 
the opportunity to do so for ten years.” 

She sunk on the sofa, sobbing. Lord Dane made a sign, 
and they were left alone. He then applied himself to reassure 
her. 

“ Harry! Harry!” she uttered. “ Did he then not kill 
you?” 

‘‘ Who?” 

“ Herbert.” 

“ You did know it, then? A heavy secret to bear, Ade- 
laide, throughout these ten years.” 

“ A secret that has made the curse of my existence,” she 
wailed. “ In the day’s bustle, in the midnight’s dark soli- 
tude, I have had one awful scene ever before me — the struggle 
between you and Herbert on the heights, and your fall over. 
In the social daily intercourse, in conversation with my friends,' 
when the thought has flashed over me, I have stopped to shud- 
der; in the dark night I have seen it over again, and woke up 
shrieking fropa the terrific dream. They say in the house that 
I am subject to the nightmare. As a heavy burden weighs 
down the body, so has that awful burden weighed down my 
spirit — and I have not dared to tell it. ” 

‘‘ Herbert bound you to secrecy?” 

‘‘ Hot so. He does not know to this hour that I recognized 
either him or you. He may suspect: I can not tell: but he 
can be at no certainty. The subject has been a barred one 
between us. He has not lived here, he has chiefly stayed 
abroad. ” 

“ Altogether, then, my disappearance — death, as it has been 
looked upon — did not bring you happiness?” 

‘^Happiness!” she reiterated. “It has made my days a 
living misery. From that hour, I have never had a minute’s 


294 LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

real peace. I would have given my own life willingly to recall 
yours. ; 

“ But for your own conduct, Adelaide,^^ he resumed, lean- 
ing toward her, “ that night^s work never would have had 
place. 

“I know it, I know it,^^ she answered, putting up her 
hands, as if she could shut out remembrance. “ And it is 
that knowledge which has brought my share of the cost. 

“ Why did you deceive me?” he abruptly asked. 

She clasped her hands on her knees, and made no answer. 

“ You suffered my love to grow almost into idolatry. AVhy 
did you do so? why did you not stop it at the outset? When 
r first came home you must have loved Herbert.'’^ 

“ Passionately,^^ she whispered. 

“ And your motive for allowing me to beguile myself into 
the same passionate love? What was it?” 

“ I acted heedlessly— some might say wickedly. I thought 
the attentions of another would draw observation from me and 
Herbert; and Lady Dane was already partially awake to it. 

“ Every action of yours at that time was one of deceit to 
me. Should you have married me? or broken your promise, 
and openly jilted me when the time came?” 

It is past and over,” said Lady Adelaide. 

“ Yes, it is past and over. Eomance has yielded its place 
to the realities of life. I am older than my years and dying ; 
— you are a married woman, and the mother of many chil- 
dren. Therefore we may well converse upon the past as 
freely as though we had not been the actors in it."’-’ 

“ Who says that you are dying?” she quickly uttered. 

“ I say so; the medical men say so; my wearing frame says 
so. I do not imply, Adelaide, that I am going to die this 
night: but an incurable disease is upon me, and is doing its 
work. That fall from the cliff injured me internally: and 
though I have appeared well, have gone about like others, have 
traveled, have enjoyed myself, I have never been the same 
man since. In the last year it has shown its progress rapidly, 
and there is no mistake that the end is drawing near. Very 
near I thought it was this morning; but I have rallied again, 
and may yet enjoy a few days’ deceitful health and strength-- 
deceitful as you were, Adelaide. I ask you whether you would 
have married me?” 

“Ido not know,” she sighed. “I did not know then 
whether I would, though the question did sometimes cross 
me. I believe — if this is to be a confessional of truth — that I 
buoyed myself up with the hope that Herbert might get some 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


295 


good appointment, which would enable him to speak out. 
And another faint hope was cherished by both of us — one less 
justifi§,ble.” 

‘‘ Tell it out, Adelaide.” 

‘‘We hoped — I will not say that Lord Dane would die, but 
that when he died, it would be found he had remembered Her- 
bert. Had it been but equivalent to a thousand a year, we 
should have married, and risked it.” 

“ Throwing me over to the dogs, or anywhere else that I 
might go!” 

“ I loved him before you came near us,” she said, in a half- 
pleading tone. 

“ And you might have told me so at once. Why did you 
not marry him when impediments were removed? When I 
was gone, and he Lord Dane?” 

Lady Adelaide turned half round to the questioner, some- 
thing like horror in her eyes. 

“ Marry him then! When I thought him a murderer? — by 
accident, if not by deliberation. I should have looked for your 
spirit to appear to us when we completed the contract. Many 
a time I have asked myself was he guilty in intention.” 

“ Ho, Adelaide. I believe him to be innocent, so far. We 
were scuffling in angry passion, each for the mastery; but 
murder, or any serious injury, was no doubt thought of as 
little by him as by me. He can not have impressed you, by 
words, with the belief that he was guilty?” 

“ By words! Do I not tell you that it has been an inter- 
dicted subject? Herbert Dane has never spoken to me of that 
night. When I ran away from the ruins, I could not control 
my shrieks. They broke from me in my nervous trepidation, 
but I had sense left not to betray cognizance of what had taken 
place*. That I was a witness to some sort of scuffle, they 
forced from me afterward, for they put me to the oath; but,” 
she added, in a lower tone, “ even the oath could not wring 
from me who were the actors in it.” 

“ Did you witness it all?” 

“ I suppose not. When I reached the ruins, I heard 
sounds, as of dispute, and I ran through the chapel, and saw 
two men engaged in contest. I heard my own name. I heard 
sufficient to gather that I was the cause of enmity, and a dread- 
ful sickness came over me when I recognized you and Her- 
bert. In that same moment you fell over; I thought he had 
hurled you; and I had no peace afterward, for I felt — I felt 
that I was almost as guilty as he. Herbert questioned me 
subsequently. What had I seen? he asked. What had terri- 


m 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


fied me? I would not satisfy him. I interdmted all mention 
of the subject; and interdicted it remained. He would have 
returned to our former confidential intimacy. He spoke seri- 
ously of our marriage — you were gone, Geoftry soon went, and 
he was the heir to Dane. Ho, no. I and Herbert Dane havre 
remained strangers ever since; and I never gave him, my 
reason for it. ” 

“ Did your love for him cease with that night?^^ resumed 
Lord Dane. 

“ Can love cease as rapidly as it comes on?^^ she returned, 
her accent one of sharp pain. “ Though I refused Herbert 
Dane, Though I took him for a murderer, I yet loved him. I 
believed that what he had done, he had done in the heat of 
passion, in his jealous love for me, and the feeling may have 
softened my judgment and my heart. All I know is, that it 
was years before I overgot my tenderness for him. I do not 
think it had quite left me when he returned recently from 
abroad.'^ ^ 

“ Yet, in the. very midst of this love, you married George 
Lester 

“ I had the choice of two alternatives: to return to Scot- 
land — hated Scotland — or to marry George Lester, and I chose 
the latter. He has been an indulgent husband to me.^^ 

“ Very much so, as I hear,^^ remarked Lord Dane, “ more 
so than to Katherine Bordillion^s children. . 

Lady Adelaide's cheeks fiushed at the allusion. She did 
not pursue it. She began to question Lord Dane of his escape 
from death, of his sojourn abroad, and he gave her a brief 
summary of its history. 

How could you think of not letting us know you were 
alive?^^ 

“ Let who know? My father and mother were dead, and 
you the wife of George Lester: there were none left in the old 
country who cared to hear from me. 

“ But to go off in that strange way in Colonel Moncton’s 
yacht. And the Castle close at hand for you to have been 
brought to!” 

“ That night was the turning-point in my life, as well as in 
yours,” was Lord Dane’s pointed answer. “It opened my 
eyes to the fact that Adelaide Errol, my promised bride, was 
but playing a game with me — that while her shafts of ridicule, 
of dislike, were thrown to me, she kept her heart’s Jove for 
Herbert. Smarting under the blow, was there any wonder 
that I should become an alien. Lady Adelaide?” 

Again she bent her face down— her face still so lovely — and 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 207 

the bright color rose upon it, almost as fresh as it had used to 
do in its damask purity. 

“ Have you married since thenP^ was her next question. 

“Lord Dane — I mean my uncle — wrote to the States to 
make inquiries as to your fortune, after your supposed death. 
You had never told him what it was invested in, he said.^^ 

“ I am aware I had not. It was all safe, though, 'and at 
good interest.'’^ 

“ He wrote, I say, but he could learn nothing satisfactory. 
And before he could pursue further his inquiries, he died. 

“ And Herbert did not, when he succeeded. That is easily 
understood. A man who had sent, or thought he had sent, 
another out of the world, would scarcely care to grasp his fort- 
une. I expect my remembrance has not been one of sweet 
odor to Herbert Dane.^^ 

“ That it has not! Others wondered why he went abroad, 
on coming intoj)ossession, and stayed away for years, /could 
have told them': that the sight of the old spot was unbearable 
to him. 

“ Yes, responded Lord Dane. “And he may have felt 
himself safer when beyond the pale of British law. The fear 
of detection, of the discovery that he was the actor in the night 
scene, Harry Dane^s assailant, must have caused him many a 
night-sweat: the coroner^s verdict was ‘ wilful murder.^ 

There was a pause in the conversation: each was occupied 
with the past. Lady Adelaide was the first to interrupt it. 

“ When did you arrive at Danesheld?^^ she asked, as the 
thought occurred to her. “ To-day 

“ Last September, when the turbulent sea cast me ashore. 
But for your step-son^s .exertions with the life-boat, I had 
never again seen Danesheld.^^ 

“ Last September!'^ she repeated, quite shrieking in her 
astonishment. “ Was it you who were saved — who have been 
lying since at the Sailor ^s Eest.^ Why have you done sor^^ 

“ I tell you, as I told Apperly, when he put to me the same 
question — for reasons. Perhaps from the delicate motive of 
not wishing suddenly to deprive my Lord Dane of his title and 
rent-roll. 

There was a grim smile on the speaker’s face, and Lady 
Adelaide slightly started as the full import of the words struck 
upon her. 

“ Why, yes; as you are here, Herbert can not be the right- 
ful possessor/’ she slowly said. “You — must — be — Lord 
Dane!” 


298 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


“ I am Lord Dane. Herbert is not, and never has been.” 

“ Then why in the world did you not return when your fa- 
ther died?” 

‘‘We will let that subject rest, Adelaide. I never supposed 
it was Herbert who was reigning. I thought it was my brother 
Geolfry. I have heard a rumor that Herbert Dane seeks a 
wife in Maria Lester. A, pretty child she was ten years ago. ” 

“ I have not interfered — I would not interfere in Herbert 
Dane’s marriage. I expect she would have been his wife by 
now, had not her fancy become inthralled by another, one 
William Lydney. I saw him in your room as I came in; you 
would shun him, did you know his character. Why, Harry, 
he is a dreadful man; ah ac^enturer and a robber. He broke 
into our house last night. He is pursuing Maria for her fort- 
une — that fourteen thousand pounds she is entitled to. ” 

“ Indeed!” composedly returned he. “ Grave accusations 
to bring against a Dane. ” 

“Against a Dane! of course they would be; but I am not 
speaking of a Dane.” 

“ I am. William Lydney is a Dane, and was born one.’’ 

Lady Adelaide sat with her mouth open, half stupefied. 
Lord Dane touched her arm. 

“ You may remember that I informed you of my early mar- 
riage. I did not tell you that I had a son born of it, but I in- 
tended to acquaint you, Adelaide, before I made you my wife. 
It is he whom you Danesheld people have been converting 
into an adventurer, a house-breaker, a poacher — I know not 
what. He is my own son — Geoff ry William Lydney Dane.” 

“ Why then he — he — will be — surely — Lord Dane!” uttered 
she, when her consternation allowed her to speak. 

“ The very moment the breath goes out of my body, he is 
Danesheld’ s lord. A better 'parti for Maria Lester than Her- 
bert Dane. ” 

“ My goodness me!” gasped Lady Adelaide. “ And I have 
called him — I don’t know what I have not called him. Every- 
thing but a gentleman.” 

“ Adelaide,” said Lord Dane, awaking from a fit of musing 
into which he fell, “ take it for all in all, life has not been to 
you all flowers and sunshine.” 

“ Taking one thing with another, it has been to me a 
wretched life,” she answered, bursting into tears. “The 
world speaks of ‘ the gay Lady Adelaide;’ it has more cause 
to speak of the repentant one. My own deceit has come home 
to me — as Herbert’s must have come home to him. ” 

“As we sow, so must we reap,” concluded Lord Dane. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


m 


Deceit is a crime that, sooner or later, entails its sure pun- 
ishment. 

And take you note of the words, reader, for they are full of 
truth. 


CHAPTBR XXIX. 

TAKIl^G DANE CASTLE BY STORM. 

Lord Dane (we call him so a little while longer) and Miss 
Dane were seated at breakfast, in the Castle, or to speak more 
correctly, after^reakfast, for the meal was over, though the 
things were not removed. Miss Dane was airily attired, as if 
in opposition to the winter weather; gay colors predominated 
in her dress, and her ringlets were no less flowing than usual. 
They were holding an argument about William Lydney. 

“ It’s no use trying to convince me, Geoff ry,” said she, 
persisting in her own view of things. “ I know that he is no 
more what you call him, than I am. He is the best-looking, 
the most polite, the most gentlemanly man in Danesheld; and 
he does pay the sweetest compliments. A midnight house- 
breaker! just as much as Tiffie is. Shelnust have dreamed 
it.” 

“ Pshaw!” returned Lord Dane, with apathy. 

‘‘ Had those police creatures kept him in custody, I should 
have gone in the carriage and made a morning call upon him 
at the station. I should. Just to testify my regard for him, 
and to show Danesheld how very much I resent the opinion 
they have taken up respecting him. I asked him one day 
whether he was rich — rich enough to keep a wife; he laughed 
and answered. Yes, and a gilt coach-and-six for her. A man 
with those means is entitled to every respect,” concluded the 
lady, with a great stress upon the ‘‘ every.” 

“ Possibly you would like to offer him a wife in your own 
person, as well as a morning call, and enjoy the benefit of the 
gilt coach,” drawled Lord Dane. 

“Oh, dear!” simpered Miss Dane, “oh, dear! Pm sure 
you have no cause to say that. If he does admire me, which 
is evident from his looks, and if he has paid me a little atten- 
tion, he has not said anytliing — yet. But he is a most fasci- 
nating man; it can’t be denied; and I expect him here every 
minute. ” 

“ Expect whom here? Hot that fellow, Lydney!” cried 
Lord Dane, aroused out of his apathy. 

“Indeed, yes, he and no other,” she smiled. “I dis- 


300 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


patched a note to him yesterday evening, after I heard of his 
release from the fangs of Young and those harpies, request- 
ing him to be here this evening at ten oYlock, on important 
business. I want to offer him my congratulations, and to 
assure him of the fact that the more Danesheld abuses him, 
the higher he stands with me.'^^ 

“You always were a weak fool, Cecilia, and you show it 
more every day,"’^ was the contplimentary retort of Lord Dane. 
“ With regard to that impostor, I shall stand no further 
nonsense : he goes out of 'Danesheld, or I do. I wrote to Sir 
Eichard Mayne, last night; these police underlings shall find 
out what it is to beard a lord-lieutenant. An^jou may as well 
understand me, now and for the future. Should your friend 
L5^dney attempt to darken my doors, the servants shall kick 
him out.^^ 

“ How remarkably impolite you are, Geoffry, and you do 
take such unaccountable prejudices was Miss Dane’s rejoin- 
der, who, whatever may have been her other deficiencies, pos- 
sessed one of the meekest of tempers. ‘‘It is my home as 
well as yours, and I shall receive my own friends in it, of 
course.” 

“ Any friend you please; but not Lydney. If Miss Dane 
can not keep herself from degrading associates, I must beg 
leave to do it for her.” 

“Ah, but you can’t,” she returned, gently clapping her 
hands in triumph, as she looked from the window, “ for he is 
already come.” 

Out of the room strode Lord Dane, and down to the hall. 
Lydney was in the middle of it, being shown in, and Bruff was 
crossing to meet him, bowing low. 

“ What do you do here, sir?” he foamed. 

“ lam here in obedience to a request of Miss Dane,” was the 
answer, delivered courteously. “ My visit is not to your lord- 
ship. ” 

“ I am the master of this castle,” foamed Lord Dane, “ and 
there’s the door. Go out of it. ” 

He laid his hand on Lydney’s shoulder, possibly to enforce 
compliance in no very gentle manner, but Bruff positively 
forced himself between them. 

“ Oh, my lord, don’t, don’t!” he pleaded in excitement. 
“You maybe sorry for it afterward. This gentleman may 
have as much right as your lordship to — to — enter castles. ” 

Whether Lord Dane would have flung Bruff out, fcr his in- 
terference, and Lydney after him, can not be told; for at that 
moment advanced Mr. Blair, who had followed Lydney in. 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 301 

^ Sir,” he said to Lord Dane, “ will you grant me an inter- 
view before dealing further with this gentleman?” 

“ Sir? Sir repeated Lord Dane, astonished at the style 
of address. For ten good long years he had left the sir ” 
beneath him. 

I speak advisedly,” was the whispered answer. “ I have 
strange tidings to communicate to you. ” 

Lord Dane glanced around him, and was seized with an in- 
ward panic. The detective stood calm and stern; Lydney 
self-possessed and dignified, yet with somewhat of pity in his 
countenance; Bruff was troubled and fearful, but testifying 
to L3"dney the utmost respect. Lord Dane noted it all, and 
his courage failed him, almost his self-possessioii; yet he had 
no suspicion of the nature of the calamity to come. 

“ Pass in here,” he said to Mr. Blair, motioning to Bruff to 
open the door of the dining-room; and, as the old butler has- 
tened to obey, he saw the same livid look on his master’s face 
which it had worn the night he passed him in the gate-way. 
They were shut in, and Lord Dane motioned to the officer to 
take a chair. 

I have come here to prepare you for a most unpleasant 
surprise,” began Mr. Blair, somewhat at a loss for words to 
break the unwelcome tidings; “ and I have but a minute or 
two to do it in, for one is following me close at hand who — 
who — must cause a startling effect upon you; and it will be 
well for you that I speak first. But you are ill!” 

“ !N’o,” replied Lord Dane, as unconcernedly as his quiver- 
ing lips, which he was biting in his agitation, allowed him to 
speak. ‘ ‘ Proceed. ’ ’ 

‘‘You were surprised at my addressing you as ‘sir,’ and 
naturally so. I am sorry that it should have fallen to my task 
to inform you of the change hanging over your head; but I 
must do my duty, however unpleasant. When I released 
William Lydney from custody, you questioned my motives, 
my right — I believe my good feeling. I would have explained 
matters to you then, had I been at liberty to do so; but they 
were not sufficiently ripe. I must do it now, and I can only 
ask you to hear it as a man.” 

Lord Dane made no reply. He stood with his arms folded, 
and his pale face turned on the speaker. That he only con- 
trolled himself to calmness by a very great effort was evident. 

“ Ten years and some months ago,” proceeded Mr. Blair, 
“ a catastrophe occurred in the Dane family. Ca2:)tain the 
Honorable Harry Dane met his death, as was supposed, in fall- 
ing from the heights, struggling with an assailant. Until a 


S02 


LAr>Y ADELAID-E^S OATiT.' 


day or two back, it was neither known nor suspected who the 
other was; but it is at length discovered to have been you. 
He-^^ 

Mr. Blair paused, alarmed at the appearance of Lord Dane, 
M^hose agitation was fearful to behold. 

Well it might be. All that he had dreaded for years was 
come. Lady Adelaide had spoken of her burden, but what 
was hers compared to the one he had carried? One perpetual 
nightmare had lain upon his soul. In his ghastly visions by 
day and by night, one perpetual terror had ever been upon 
him — the day of discovery, when he should be dragged from 
his high j)innacle to answer for the murder of- his cousin 
Harry; perhaps to suffer for it a felon^s punishment, death 
upon the scaffold. That the officer now before him was about 
to arrest him, and was thus preparing him, in his humanity, 
he entertained no manner of doubt. The perspiration broke 
out on his brow in large drops of anguish, and he threw up his 
hands to Mr. Blair in an attitude of entreaty. 

“It was not willful murder,^' he gasped, in a tone of the 
sharpest pain. “ If you arrest me for it, you will do me a 
foul wrong, for I am innocent. We were quarreling, and it 
came to blows; he struck me first, as I have a soul to be saved! 
he attacked me! We got too near the edge of the cliff, in our 
strife, and he went over, but I did not push him: I swear I did 
not. I was as guiltless of intentionally causing his death as I 
am of causing yours. Could Harry Dane speak to you from 
the next world he would say so. ” 

“Nay, but there is no cause for this violent agitation, in- 
teimosed Mr. Blair. “ Had you heard me to an end — ” 

“ I have thought for some days that it might be a warning 
that this was coming upon me,^^ continued Lord Dane, in a 
dreamy tone, as he leaned against a sideboard, never so much 
as hearing the interruption. “ Harry Dane appeared to me.'^^ 
“ What?^^ uttered Mr. Blair. “ Appeared wherer'’^ 

“ Ay, ridicule it. I am a strong man, sir, a man of en- 
lightened education, of intellect; and, as all such must do, I 
have ever cast the most contemptuous disbelief, the veriest 
mockery on supernatural tales. Ghosts! visions! appearances! 
— they might be fit marvels for children, but not for men. 
Nevertheless, I tell you now, in the broad light of day, I, 
Geoffry, Baron Dane, in full possession of my mind and senses, 
I tell you that some evenings ago I saw the apparition of my 
cousin Harry. Never, since the fatal night of his death, had 
I entered the ruins, but the story told by Shad, that the plot- 
ting might be there, sent me to them. It was the night pre- 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


303 


ceding the day when I telegraphed for you. I stood in the 
ruins, my thoughts naturally cast long back to. the unlucky 
night and its events wlien I was last there. I raised my eyes, 
and there, at one of the apertures, gazing in upon me, was the 
form of Harry Dane. I saw it as plainly as ever I saw it dur- 
ing his life-time.” 

Lord Dane’s voice faltered, for sounds — he deemed them 
ominous ones — seemed to arise from the next apartment, the 
hall. Mr. Blair’s ears were opened to the same, but before he 
could say another word to Lord Dane, or impede his move- 
ments, the latter had drawn the door gently open, so as to 
allow of peeping out. You may forgive the tremor that shook 
his frame: he believed that the officers of justice had arrived 
for him. 

Hot. much like officers of justice, however, did the group 
look that met his view. Standing in the hall, his left hand 
affectionately laid on the shoulder of William Lydney, was a 
tall, upright figure, his high features bearing an unmistakable 
likeness to the Dane family. In spite of his pallor and his 
white hair, none could mistake him for any other than Harry 
Dane. In the body or the spirit?” may have thought one 
who was gazing. The old servants of the Castle were gathered 
round — some standing, some positively kneeling, all with tears 
in tiieir eyes. Bruff’seyes were overfiowing; and in the back- 
ground stood Bavensbird and Lawyer Apperly. 

“ I said you would know me again,” he smiled, his own eyes 
full, and his right hand grasping those of his father’s old re- 
tainers. I did not think I should live to return to assume 
■ ■ Longst you; but God has been merciful 



A low murmur of congratulation, intermixed with sobs, was 
heard in answer. 

‘‘ Hot for long, my dear old friends, not, I fear, for many 
days. You will only regain me to lose me again^ but I shall 
leave one — ” - 

The hall was rent with a shout. - 

Long live Lord Dane! Thank God for restoring the dead 
to life! Long live and bless the true Lord Dane!” 

“ Ho, no, it will not be for long,” he answered; “for the 
old grim enemy who must take us all at last is coming swiftly 
on for me. I was about to intro^co you to one who will ful- 
fill my place to you in all ways ;^vhe^ I shall be gone. Look 
at this young man by my side, and tell me who lie is like.” 

They looked attentively. Seeing the two side by side, they 


304 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


compared tlieir height, their features; and some voices were 
heard to answer, somewhat timidly: 

‘‘ He is like a Dane. 

“ Yes, he is like a Dane. You may have known him only 
as plain William Lydney; you may have heard him traduced 
as an adventurer, a suspected criminal. My friends, Danes- 
held little guessed who it was accusing. He is my only son, 
your future lord, the Honorable Geoffry Dane.^'' 

GeofFry Dane held out his hand, all pressed round to clasp 
it. There was another shout, while poor old Bruif sobbed out- 
right. One, who was not overwhelmed with brains, was heard 
to ask how he could be Geoifry Dd^MQ'ancl William Lydney. 

“ Must I give you his name in full?’^ smiled Lord Dane. 
“ He was christened Geoff ry William Lydney; so, you see, 
though he was known in Danesheld as William Lydney only 
he did not sport fast colors. My dear friends,-’^ he added, with 
emotion, ‘‘ there is nothing false about him. He is a genuine 
Dane, honorable, upright, open. He never gave me a min- 
ute^s uneasiness in his life, and that is what can be said of few 
sons. Serve him truthfully in all good faith; as he will be 
faithful to, and protect you. He will not belie his race. 

But what, of all this, had heard Herbert Dane«»^henceforth 
Lord Dane no more. Nothing, save the shout, ‘‘ Long live 
Lord Dane;^^ for they were at one extremity of the great hall: 
he at the other. But he had seen. He turned his perplexed 
face upon Mr. Blair, its expression asking for the information 
that his lips did not. 

“ Yes, it is your cousin, Harry Dane, and if you saw him, 
as you state, the other evening, though I had not heard of it, 
you saw him in the flesh, not in the spirit. He did not die 
when he fell from the cliff: he was preserved, and has now re- 
turned to claim his own. You are not about to be arraigned 
as a murderer, the conclusion you jumped to,^^ continued Mr. 
Blair, with a smile, but you must put up with the loss of 
your title and fortune. That is Lord Dane. 

“ And he?’"’ pursued Herbert, pointing with his finger to 
Lydney, the conviction flashing over his mind in the same mo- 
ment that he had been all along laboring under some ex- 
traordinary delusion as to the young man^s doings and char- 
acter. 

‘‘ His son: the Honorable Geoffry William. • 

Herbert Dane wiped the drops from his face, and went 
forth. The crowd opened, and they stood face to face gazing 
at each other. 

“ Herbert 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


305 


“ Harry!" 

In a moment their hands were locked; and alone, save for 
William, they retired to the dining-room. Lord Dane leaning 
upon Herbert. 

“ First of all, Herbert, let me say that I forgive you — " 

“ It was not purposely done," interrupted Herbert Dane, 
in agitation, while William retired to the window out of hear- 
ing. I never pushed you; I never knew we were so near the 
edge until you went over. Harry, I swear it. " 

‘ Not for the encounter: I have as much need of your for- 
giveness for that, as you have of mine, for I believe 1 was the 
aggressor. But you might have come to see after me, or sent 
assistance to me when I was down." 

I never supposed but that it must have killed you, and in 
my cowardice I dreaded detection and punishment. As for 
assistance, I saw that one of the preventive-men was under- 
neath. 

“ What I would forgive you for is the 'provocation — the de- 
ceit practiced toward me by you and Adelaide. Do you realize 
what it must have been to me? I forgive you, as I have for- 
given her. I am hastening on to my long journey, and I 
could not enter upon it without first squaring up my accounts: 
so I sent for her last night and gave it her." 

She was worth neither you nor me, Harry. She jilted me 
afterward, like she had been ready to jilt you. Many a thou- 
sand times have I wished that I had let you win her: it would 
have been better for all of us. " 

Ay. But we will drop the subject. You played me a 
sneaking trick, Herbert, about that box. What induced you 
to steal it — and conceal it?" 

“ The box frightened me. I have feared detection in every 
leaf and sound for this last ten years, and when the box, that 
box, stared me in the face on the beach, I can not tell you my 
sensations. Eemember, I never cast a thought to the idea that 
you might be living, and if rights came to be measured, I, the 
only Dane left, might surely claim the box. I concealed it, 
and would have opened it to see what it contained, but the 
inner case baffled me. I will give it up to you; it is in the 
Castle." 

I don't fancy it is," said Lord Dane. But he resumed. 

And now comes the last question touching your misdoings. 
Why is it that you have so persecuted my son?" 

“ He terrified me as being the owner of the box. I no more 
supposed liim to be your son, than I supposed him to be mine; 
but I did fear he might be coming over to denounce me as 


B06 


LADY ADELAIDE S OATH. 


having helped you to your death. And I really have had a 
bad opinion of him, from his consorting with the poachers. 

“‘Consorting"’ with them!’' returned Lord Lane, some 
scorn in his tone. “ He was after the box — that’s what took 
him into the poachers’ company; and looking after AVilfred 
Lester, who was going to the bad as headlong as he could go. 
AVho but AVilfred Lester, do you suppose, broke into his fa- 
ther’s house? AVilliam went there to get him out of it.” 

Herbert Lane made no answer, in his surprise. The past 
was becoming clear to him. 

“ Herbert,” said Lord Lane, bending toward him, “did 
such a thing ever cross your mind as Letribution? Have you 
remarked how surely our own doings bring forth their nathral 
fruit? We plant an acorn, and it springs up an oak-tree; we 
sow an ear of wheat, and it ripens into corn; we set a noxious 
weed, and it comes up tares. Just so is it with the moral 
world: according as we plant, so must we gather. You and 
Adelaide Errol did me a bitter wrong: it was not the injury of 
a moment — that which may be committed in a whirl of pas- 
sion, without premeditation: but it was a concerted, long-con- 
tinued wrong — a deception that you carried on through months 
of time — one day planning how you should best blind and de- 
ceive me on the next. But now, what has that conduct borne 
for you in the end? Adelaide looking upon you as a murderer, 
would not have you, jilted you, as you term it, and married 
George Lester, entailing a life’s misery upon herself — for she 
loved but you. Her ill-treatment of, and ill-feeling toward 
George Lester’s son drove him, the young man, nearly desper- 
ate: his life was worth nothing to him, and in his recklessness 
to preserve it, he put off in the life-boat the night of the ship- 
wreck, saving me and William. None but a man whose life 
was valueless to him would have manned, and by his example 
induced others to man, the boat on that desperate night. Thus 
Adelaide is the. remote but certain cause of our safety; the 
cause of your being put down from your high pinnacle, the 
cause of your losing your wished-for bride — for that Maria 
Lester will be AVilliam’s there can be no manner of doubt. 
See you not how it has all worked under Providence? — that the 
original deceit is recoiling on yourselves?” 

Herbert Lane did see it. Who would not? and a recollec- 
tion flashed into his mind of AVilliam Lydney’s triumphant 
look, when he had said Maria might yet be Lady Lane. 

“ I have come to remain, Herbert,” continued Lord Lane. 

“ The Castle from to-day must own me for its lord, and ydu*^ 
must be my guest. Lo not tliink I will turn you abruptly out 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATIL 


307 


of it: we will discuss plans for your future amicably, and I 
will take care that you are better off than you were when you 
were last Herbert Dane. Some persons might come upon you 
for the back rents of the past ten years,'’ Mie added, laughing, 
“but you need not fear that I shall. How is Cecilia?” 

“ More flighty and absurd now than ever. The present 
crotchet in her head is that William Lydney is in love with 
her.^^ 

“ Oh, indeed. Well, she and Maria Lester must settle that 
between them. Poor, harmless Cecilia!^^ 

“ May I come in?” cried a voice at the door, which proved 
to be from Cecilia herself. “ I doiPt think I shall ever have 
my understanding clear again; it is being turned upside down. 
They tell me that Harry is come back as Lord Dane, and that 
William Lydney — Harry! is it indeed you?^^ 

“ That William Lydney is not himself but somebody else,” 
laughed William, turning from the window, after the meeting 
between her and his father was over. “ I must introduce my- 
self as your cousin. Miss Dane.” 

“ Oh, dear! cousin!” echoed Miss Dane, a blank look aris- 
ing to her face. “ Why, to be sure you are, being Harry^s 
son; and not a flrst cousin either.” And away flew she up- 
stairs to consult her prayer-book as to the forbidden ties of 
consanguinity; opening it at that part which begins, “ A 
man may not marry his grandmother. ” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

SQUIRE LESTER'S ASTONISHMENT. — TIFFLE IN A FAINTING 

FIT. 

Squire Lestj^r was seated in his study, in a very cross and 
disturbed mood. Various things were giving him trouble. 
In the first place, the discharge of Lydney from custody, and 
the positive refusal of Inspector Young to retake him, was an 
offense that worked up his blood to bubbling heat; in the 
second, an interview he had just held with his daughter, in- 
creased it to boiling-point; and in the third, the uneasiness 
and vexation he endured on the score of his son, sent it flow- 
ing over. He coidd not deaden all natural feeling for Wilfred, 
though he had striven to do so lately; he began to fear that 
something must be wrong on his side; and to doubt whether 
Lady Adelaide's constant incentives to the persecution of Wil- 
fred were altogether the precise line of conduct he ought to 
have fallen in with. 


308 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 

Of his wife^s expedition to the Sailor^s Eest the previous 
evening, under the convoy of Mr. Apperly, he knew nothing; 
Lord Dane having demanded a promise from her that she 
should for the present be silent as to his return. His anger 
against Maria arose from this: he had sent for her to his study 
that morning, and told her to hold herself in readiness to 
espouse Lord Dane; and Maria, calling up her whole stock of 
courage, had told him that she could not. 

“You would prefer to marry that villain, Lydney!’^ spoke 
Mr. Lester, in his wrath. 

Maria bent her head, crimsoning painfully. All that she 
reiterated was, that she could not marry Lord Dane. 

Mr. Lester was obliged to wait for his rage to subside suffi- 
ciently to speak. 

“ Look you here, Maria. I will give you the day to con- 
sider of it. If you do not tell me to-night that you are ready 
to accept Lord Dane, you must leave my house. You can 
take up your abode with Wilfred: I will not suffer you under 
my roof any more than I did him. Had I followed the advice 
of Lady Adelaide, you would have gone to them months ago. 
Disobedient, disgraceful children 

“ Oh, papa!^^ she said, the tears streaming from her eyes, 
“ have a little compassion for us both! Give some aid to Wil- 
fred, save him from utter ruin, and do not force me upon 
Lord Dane!^^ 

“ Your answer to-night. Miss Lester,^^ was all the rejoinder 
he vouchsafed to give. 

Maria escaped: Mr. Lester sat on, fuming and fretting, 
when he was interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Blair, tliat 
gentleman having made his way to the Hall immediately after 
his interview with Herbert Dane. 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Lester. I am disturbing you early, 
but business must be my excuse. I have had a telegrapliic 
dispatch this morning from town, from Scotland Yard. The 
lord-lieutenant wrote to Sir Richard Mayne, last afternoon, re- 
garding this house-breaking affair of yours, and Sir Richard 
has communicated the fact to me. A fine invention, this 
electric telegraph! I look upon it as one of the greatest con- 
nected with science! He would receive Lord Dane^s letter at 
eight, and I got his message at half past.’^ 

“ May I inquire what was the object or the nature of Sir 
Richard Mayne ^s communication to you?^^ inquired Mr. Lester, 
who felt most considerably astonished. 

“ None whatever: except to inform me of the appeal having 
been made to him by the lord-lieutenant. You appear sur- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


309 


prised, Mr. Lester: you have, I believe, looked upon me as 
ni^pLord Dane's banker, but I must assure you I am nothing 
halT so important in a commercial point of view. I am a de- 
tective officer; one of the chief." 

“ Bless my soul!" ejaculated Mr. Lester. 

“ I came down here to watch the doings in Danesheld. A 
communication reached me that an attempt was to be made to 
break into Dane Castle, and I laid my plans accordingly. 
AVould you believe, Mr. Lester, that on Sunday night the 
Castle was protected by policemen, waiting for the robbers?" 

“No!" 

“ But we were on the wrong scent. I, with all my pene- 
tration and experience, was misled. While we were cunningly 
guarding the Castle, the Hall was entered; and that, not the 
Castle, was the object from the first. Now, by stating par- 
ticulars to you so far, you will readily give me credit for being 
in possession of the whole, and I must inform you that it was 
upon my authority AVilliam Lydney was discharged from cus- 
tody — which induced the lord-lieutenant's haughty appeal to 
Sir Richard Mayne." , 

“ But what could possess you to discharge him?" sharply 
asked Mr. Lester. “The man is as great a villain as ever 
walked. Have you done it to screen him from the conse- 
quences of his guilt?" 

“ Hardly," responded Mr. Blair: “ my ofiice is to bring to 
punishment, not to screen. I discharged him because he was 
not guilty. Listen, Mr. Lester. In the attack made on your 
house, there was a ringleader, one who planned it, and on 
whom, in my opinion, nearly the whole guilt rests. The fel- 
lows he induced by promises to aid him, some of your loose 
poacher chaps, have neither the brains nor the courage to enter 
upon a house-breaking expedition on their own account." 

“It is precisely my opinion," eagerly acquiesced Squire 
Lester; “it is also Lord Dane's. Those poachers are not 
worth punishing, and therefore we have not moved heaven and 
earth to take them. The ringleader is the guilty man, and 
that ringleader was Lydney. " 

“ Mr. Lester, give me credit for being assured of my facts 
before I speak. William Lydney was not the ringleader." 

The officer had dropped his voice to a low, earnest key, and 
his look had changed to one of solemn meaning. Mr. Lester, 
he could not tell why, did not like it. 

“ I am here to tell you who the ringleader was; but I warn 
you beforehand, Mr. Lester, that it will not be pleasant ,to 
your ears." 


310 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATII. 


‘‘ It must havel)een Lydney/’ was the faltering answer, all 
Mr. Lester’s assurance gone. 

“ It was Wilfred Lester.” 

Up started Mr. Lester, overturning the inkstand before him, 
his face red, and his tongue loud. 

“ How dare you traduce my son?” he cried, as he paced the 
room. ‘‘ Do you forget who he is; that he is a gentleman? 
He is under the cloud of my displeasure just now, and it drives 
him to be wild, random: to associate with loose company. But 
a midnight house-breaker! You shall eat your words, Mr. 
Blair.” 

“ I am not sorry to hear one admission from your lips,” 
equably returned the officer, who had sat with professional 
coolness until the burst was over: ‘‘ that it is the being under 
the cloud of your disjdeasure which drives him to be wild and 
to join bad company. You speak truth, Mr. Lester. What- 
ever ill your son may be guilty of, you have driven him on to 
it. He tvas the house-breaker into the Hall last night — that 
is, the mover in the step — the ringleader. ” 

‘‘ Perhaps you will say I drove him on to that!” chafed 
Mr. Lester, whose feelings were taming down from indignation 
into pain. 

“ Yes, I should, if you ask my opinion. Mr. Lester, allow 
me — it is of no use to contend against facts, or to resent what 
it is my painful duty to tell you. Knowing, as you now do, 
who I am, you may be sure I should not come to you with a 
half-substantiated story. It was your son who planned and 
carried out the attack on his father’s house, the poachers be- 
ing persuaded and bribed by him to help in it.” 

“ But what for? what was his motive?” gasped Mr. Lester. 
“ There was nothing taken; did he want to cut our throats?” 

“ There was no robbery, in the ordinary sense of the word, 
and the pistol you heard discharged was raised by him at one 
of the men, who had hinted that it might be pleasant to effect 
a little business of that sort on his own cheek. There was 
something taken, however.” 

Mr. Lester looked round, as if to make sure that the chairs 
and tables were all in their places. 

“ What was taken?” he inquired, his accent savoring of 
incredulity. 

“ Have you examined your iron safe?” 

“ No.” But Mr. Lester turned short round and examined 
it then; that is, gave a stare at the outside. 

“I fancy his object was to get into his possession a certain 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 8ll 

deed, relating to some money he believes he is entitled to, but 
which you withhold. And I fancy he succeeded. 

After a pause of astonishment, Mr. Lester hastily drew some 
keys from his pocket, and unlocked the safe. He knew pre- 
cisely where to lay his hand upon the parchment, and essayed 
to do so. 

‘‘ The deed is gone!^^ he uttered, turning round in perturba- 
tion. And Mr. Blair nodded. 

‘‘ You now perceive your son^s motive. I donT defend him: 
mind that. I don’t defend him; but some may deem that he 
had provocation. Whether the money ought by law to have 
come to him when he was of age, I. can not offer an opinion 
upon. He expected that it should, and the least you could 
have done, was to allow him to peruse the deed. AVhen you 
shall deliberate over the past with less prejudice than you have 
probably been in the habit of doing, you may arrive at the 
same conclusion as myself — that had Wilfred Lester been 
treated differently by his father, he might never have forfeited 
his good name. ” 

“ Are you going to arrest him?” was the rejoinder of Mr. 
Lester, who was cutting rather a sorry figure: as most men do 
when a conviction of their own bad conduct is brought home 
to their shame. 

To arrest him is not in my department. If you choose to 
give him into custody, you can hand your warrant and in- 
structions to Inspector Young. Your son might get the 
punishment, but I know who would get the odium. When 
the whole facts were disclosed, the miserable course of his past 
treatment, there’s not a judge upon the bench but would recoil 
from sentencing him — thinking of their own children.” 

Squire Lester gave his brow a rub, which was apparently 
growing hot. 

“I am not going to give him into custody,” he sharply 
said. ‘‘ You need not preach.” 

“ But that I felt convinced Mr. Lester was a good man at 
heart, and had been led away (he bes^ knows by what influ- 
ence) to act harshly, I should not have disclosed to him the 
true culprit,” observed the officer, looking him steadily in the 
face. “ I knew he would shrink from bringing public punish- 
ment on one who is his son, and ought to be his heir, thereby 
furnishing further food for scandal in Danesheld.” 

Further food!” retorted Mr. Lester. “ I have furnished 
none yet.” 

“ My good sir!” returned the officer. ‘‘ If you only knew 
the hard words bestowed upon you from one end of the place 


312 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


to the other, you would not think that. Wilfred, with all his 
ill-doings, is popular and respected, compared with you.” 

‘‘ You are bold,” chafed Mr. Lester. 

‘‘ It is the fault of my trade,” was the answer, given with a 
knowing smile. “It is a good thing, and you may thank 
your stars for it that some one else has been more compassion- 
ate to your son and his wife than you have been: or else I am 
not sure that they — she, at any rate — would be alive now. I 
speak of a gentleman who has lately been regarded as a wolf, 
come to Danesheld to devour lambs — William Lydney.” 

“Ah! William Lydney!” was the fierce response, as if 
Squire Lester wished to indemnify his anger for momentarily 
forgetting him. “ Hov/ever you may excuse my son for being 
here last night, you can not palliate Ms guilt. He had no 
deed to get. ” 

“ I will let you into a secret, Mr. Lester. It came to 
William Lydney’s knowledge that your son was in the woods 
on Sunday night with the rest of the ruffians — the convoy en- 
gaged in the respectable employment of tacking black crape to 
their hats. That may have been about nine o’clock. He 
waited out in the cold damp air till morning, watching for 
Wilfred Lester, resolved to snatch him from the crime he 
was contemplating. Unfortunately Mr. Lydney, like the rest 
of us, believed it was the Castle that was threatened — he did 
not give a thought to your house — and when the truth reached 
him, they were already in the Hall, and he was too late. He 
came here just in time to find the deed accomplished, and the 
jail-birds flying; but he found Wilfred, and got him safely 
home. William Lydney saved your son from prison; William 
Lydney has helped him in other ways, which lam not speak- 
ing of. I went ferreting about last night amidst the odds and 
ends of Lanesheld population, picking up what information I 
could about William Lydney and Wilfred Lester, and I picked 
up a good deal. Lydney’s character has been pretty nearly 
taken from him for frequenting the haunts of the poachers; 
but he was looking after your son, to keep him from evil. 
They had grown friendly. ” 

“ Wilfred always had a hankering after low company,” said 
Squire Lester. 

“ If he never gets into lower company than young Lydney’s, 
he won’t hurt,” returned Mr. Blair, bursting into a laugh. 

Something in its tone upset Mr. Lester’s equanimity. 

“ Why, who is Lydney?” 

“ Oh, as to that, you can ask him when you next see him. 
I should treat him with civility were I you, squire, if only in 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


313 


return for his taking your son’s guilt upon himself. It is not 
every man who would quietly be given into custody for 
another.” 

“ What possessed him? He must have been possessed by 
some powerful motive. ” 

“ Or motives. True. Wilfred Lester saved his life, and 
he may have been actuated by gratitude. A feeling is abroad 
also that he would do a great deal to save from disgrace one 
who is so nearly related to Miss Lester!” 

‘‘ He is a ruffian and a villain! and I will maintain that he 
is, so far as his behavior goes in this house,” fired Mr. Lester, 
disturbed by the allusion. “ Who but a villain would set 
himself out to rival Lord Dane and gain my daughter’s affec- 
tions? — ay, and I can’t answer for it that he has not succeed- 
ed. Can you defend him in that, sir?” 

“ I think I had better leave him to defend himself.” 

Were I Lord Dane I would shoot him?” 

“ Were you Lord Dane, I do not fancy you would,” laughed 
Mr. Blair. ^ 

The conference came to an end; and Mr. Blair felt assured 
that no more appeals would go up to Sir Eichard Mayne. He 
left the house; and Mr. Lester paced his. study in a most un- 
comfortable state of perplexity. Would it be best to take 
Wilfred into favor, or to go on disowning him? And how 
was he to get back the deed? And what would my lady say? 
Meantime there came a summons to the hall door. The serv- 
ant admitted three gentlemen, who had descended from the 
carriage. One, a commanding-looking man of attenuated feat- 
ures, a stranger to the domestic; Mr. Apperly, and — very 
dubiously looked the servant, not knowing whether to deny 
him admittance or not — William Lydney. 

“ I wish to see Mr. Lester,” said the stranger. 

The* man bowed and led the way to the study. He laid his 
hand on the handle of the door and turned. 

“ What name, sir?” 

“Lord Dane.” 

“I — 1 beg your pardon, sir,” stammered the man in his 
surprise. asked what name?” 

“ Lord Dane,” was the distinct repetition; and the servant 
wondered what old madman had got in, as he announced it. 
He looked round for the other two, but found they had not 
advanced, so he closed the door on the one who had. 

“ Show me to Miss Lester,” said Mr. Lydney. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said the man, familiarly. “ She’s 


314 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


at home; and my lady’s not down yet. But about admitting 
of you in — ” 

“ I bid you show me to Miss Lester,” interrupted Lydney, 
in a quiet tone of command — and the man felt that it might 
not be disobeyed. 

Maria was in the drawing-room alone, the traces of tears 
still upon her cheeks. She brushed them away hastily and ad- 
vanced to receive the guests. 

“ My visit is not to you. Miss Lester,” began Mr. Apperly, 
in a joking manner, “ but I have taken the liberty of follow- 
ing this young gentleman to your presence, thinking it may 
be as well to introduce him — Mr. Dane; Lord Dane to he, ” 

William Lydney smiled; Maria looked from one to the 
other. She scarcely noted the words, strange as they were; 
all her thoughts were directed to the imprudence of his ap- 
pearing at the Hall. 

“ Does papa know you are here?” she timidly asked. 

‘‘ Not yet; but I have scarcely transgressed his prohibition. 
He forbid William Lydney to enter; he did not forbid GeoHry 
Dane.” 

“ I expect you can settle it yourselves now without me,” 
cried Mr. Apperley, as he quitted the room. 

Maria, answer me truly. Does not Mr. Lester wish to 
force you on Lord Dane?” 

“ Yes,” she answered, bursting into tears. “ If I will not 
give the required promise before to-day is over, I am to be 
turned from my home.” 

“ Give it, my darling,” he whispered, as he caught her 
to his heart and held her there. “ / ask you. Promise that 
you will marry no other than Lord Dane.” 

“ What do you mean?” she uttered in agitation. 

“ Promise me to be Lord Dane’s wife,” was all he reiter- 
ated. 

‘‘ William!” and she strove to draw away from him. 

Will you promise, then, to be mine?” he fondly whis- 
pered. 

“ Oh, that I might promise it!” she isaid, in her distress. 

Gain my father’s consent, and you Have mine. ” 

‘ • I think his will be gained before the day is over,” he re- 
plied, gazing in her face with his triumphant air of tenderness. 
“ My dearest, you trusted the unknown William Lydney. He 
was obscure, under a cloud, and he could not declare himself. 
I told you that the trust should not be misplaced. I am 
Geoff ry Dane. ” 

“ What do you mean?” she exclaimed. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH, 


315 


‘‘To be Lord Dane, I fear — I fear — ere much time shall 
have elapsed. I puzzled you, Maria, when I said you might 
come to be my Lady Dane yet, if things worked well. But 
you can not suppose 1 alluded to him whom you knew as Lord 
Dane. He is no longer Lord Dane, and, in point of fact, 
never has been.” 

“ When — who — is — Lord Dane?” returned Maria, bringing 
out the words slowly in her excessive astonishment. ^ 

“ My father — who is at the present moment with Mr. Les- 
ter. The Captain Harry Dane who fell over the cliff when 
you were a child, Maria. He did not die. ’ ’ 

“ Can this be true?” 

“ It is undoubtedly true,” he returned, with a smile. “ As 
true as that I shall hold you to your promise to be mine — my 
darling, my darling wife!” 

She started from his embrace, for Lady Adelaide entered. 
If anything could have added to Maria’s wonder of astonish- 
ment it was to see her shake hands heartily with William, and 
call him “ Geoff ry.” 

But we have not quite finished with Mr. Lester, whom we 
left pacing the study in excitement. He was interrupted by 
the announcement of Lord Dane, and turned to receive him. 
Instead of Lord Dane there entered, walking slowly, as if from 
feebleness, but not stooping, a fine, upright man with white 
hair. Mr. Lester supposed some mistake had been made, or 
that Lord Dane was following; but as he scanned the features 
of the visitor, he felt strangely startled, and drew back. 

“ I — I — thought he said Lord Dane,” broke from him, in 
his embarrassment. 

“ So he did,” was the stranger’s answer, as he held out his 
hand. “Don’t you know me, George? * Who else but my- 
self should be Lord Dane?” 

Mr. Lester staggered to a chair and sat down, utterly petri- 
fied. 

“ Harry Dane did not di% George; and he has come back 
at the eleventh hour to claim his own. I should have been 
home ten years ago had I dreamed that it was Herbert who 
was representing the Dane peerage; I never supposed but it 
was my brother Geoffry. ” 

Mr. Lester clasped his hands and welcomed him ; and at 
this juncture Lawyer Apperly entered, and the events of the 
past were cursorily explained to Mr. Lester’s almost disbeliev- 
ing ears. 

“ AVhat a dreadful blow for Herbert Dane?” was his first 
comment. 


316 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


‘‘ Dreadful in one sense, inasmucli as that it deprives him 
of his rank,” assented Lord Dane; “ in another sense, it is a 
boon — a relief.” 

“ Relief from what?” asked Mr. Lester; but Lord Dane 
evaded the question. 

“ Danesheld says — it has lost none of its gossiping talents 
— that he wished to marry your daughter. ” 

‘ Wliy — yes,” was Mr. Lester’s slow answer, as he ran over 
probabilities and improbabilities in his own mind; “ but — I 
don’t know now. Of course this change will involve loss of 
income as well as loss of title. ” 

“ Undoubtedly. And he may think himself well off that I 
do not call upon him to make good the revenues of the estate 
which he has enjoyed for the last ten years,” Lord Dane add- 
ed, laughing. 

' “ I do not see that he can now think further of Maria,” Mr. 
Lester observed, shaking his head. “ And she does not like 
him. ” 


‘‘ Were she quite free I would have made her an offer on 
the part of my son,” resumed Lord Dane. 

“ Your son!” echoed Mr. Lester. “ Oh, to be sure, you 
have just said you have one by an ea.rly marriage. Is he in 
this country?” 

“ He is in this house; he came with me; but I sent him to 
wait in the drawing-room until my first appearance to you 
should be over. By accepting him your daughter’s anticipat- 
ed position will not be changed; she will still be Lady Dane. 
In point of wealth she will be better off, for Geoffry has an 
immense fortune from his mother’s side.” 

“A most flattering, munificent offer,” cried the gratified 
Mr. Lester; ‘‘ and if Maria can only be brought to hear reason 
and entertain it — ” 

“ Oh, don’t fancy we would force Miss Lester’s inclination,” 
interposed Lord Dane; “ she must be allowed to decide for 
herself. You had better let nijp son be introduced to you. 
Apperly, suppose you go and bring him in.” 

“ I shall be most delighted, most proud to make his ac- 
quaintance,” spoke Mr. Lester, in the exuberance of his 
spirits. “ I wonder what Apperly can be chuckling at?” he 
thought, looking after him; “^but I don’t fancy he ever did 
cordially like Herbert Dane.” 

Mr. Apperly went away chuckling, and Mr. Apperly came 
back chuckling. Lydney was with him ; and Lady Adelaide 
and Maria followed them. Mr. Lester flew in a rage. 

“ You here! You audacious man! How dare you pre- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH, 


317 


same to intrude into my house! I beg your pardon. Lord 
Dane; but this man Lydney — " 

Mr. Lester stopped, for Lord Dane had linked his arm 
within the “ audacious man's," and was leading him up. 

“ An iustant, George Lester," he said; “ you shall tell me 
about Lydney when I have made the introduction. My son, 
Geolfry Dane." 

The consternation of Mr. Lester was pitiable. 

“ He ! — he your son?" he gasped, when he could speak. 

“ My own and only son — Geoff ry William Lydney Dane, 
styled the Honorable. Ah, Lester! you and Danesheld have 
been abusing him — have been laying all sorts of outrageous 
sins to his charge, deceived into it by the calumniations of 
Herbert Dane; but Maria was more clear-sighted than any of 
you. She saw that his nature was what it is, all honor and 
goodness, and she trusted 1pm. I think you should give her 
to him in recompense." 

Lady Adelaide advanced, her cheek flushed with emotion, 
as she addressed her husband. 

‘‘ George, I never urged you to give her to Lord Dane — to 
Herbert; I do urge you to give her to Geoff ry." 

“ I can but ask you to hold to your promise, sir," interrupt- 
ed AVilliam, looking at Mr. Lester with a sunny smile. “ You 
have vowed she shall only marry to be Lady Dane, and the 
sole chance of her becoming so — since my father is not a can- 
didate for her hand — is by accepting me. Give her to me," he 
yearningly pleaded. “ I will love and cherish her forever." 

“ I'll draw up the marriage settlements for nothing, if you 
will say yes," cried out Lawyer Apperly, in the fullness of his 
satisfaction. “ I could walk a mile on my head to-day." 

“ What in the world is the matter with you all?" exclaimed 
Mr. Lester, above the confusion and in his own emotion. 
“ You are beseeching me as if for some great boon hard to 
grant; I think the boon will be bestowed on me. Take her," 
he added, as he grasped AVilliam's hand; “ take her and keep 
her, and forgive me the past." 

“ And now that that is all right, I must be going," said 
Lord Dane. 

“ Where?" asked Mr. Lester. 

“ Where! why to show myself in Danesheld with my son, 
and to make a few more calls on friends, as I have made here, 
previously to holding my levee at the Castle. I shall go 
about it rather charily, Lester, lest timid people may fancy it 
is a ghost coming in. Herbert thought me one the other 
night in the chapel ruins. It was the only time I ventured 


318 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


out while I was at Eavensbird’s. The night was fine, I felt 
unusually strong, and I managed to walk as far as the ruins. 
Herbert Dane, it seems, had walked to the same spot, and we 
met. I know he took me for my own apparition, for he scat- 
tered off like a man scared by one, while I stepped to the next 
window and got inside. Are you ready, William? We go 
first to Wilfred Lester’s.” 

“ To Wilfred Lester’s!” involuntarily uttered Wilfred’s 
father. 

“ Yes, sir, to Wilfred Lester’s,” replied Lord Dane some- 
what sternly. “ His own flesh and blood have forsaken him, 
have abandoned him to the charity of a cold world, so it is 
time the world took him up. I intend to carry him and his 
wife to the Castle to-day — pretty little Edith as she used to 
be, more ready with her kisses for Captain Harry Dane than 
Maria was— and there they shall ^top — my guests and Will- 
iam’s — until somebody can see abaut a home for them. In a 
measure I look upon this as my duty. Various tales have 
come to my ears — Danesheld gossip again — that my cousin 
Adelaide has set the father against the son. If so, I feel sure 
that Adelaide has had some base and crafty adviser — possibly 
she may find it to have been a member of her household. At 
any rate, Wilfred stays with us until you and she come to 
your senses. Do you hear, Adelaide?” 

Lady Adelaide did hear, and looked terribly conscious and 
confused. But what was more to the purpose, she looked re- 
pentant. 

They left the Hall, and were about to step into the carriage, 
when they encountered Miss Bordillion, who was calling at it. 
Like some others had done, and like many others were des- 
tined to do before the day closed, she started back at the sight 
of Lord Dane. The facts were hastily explained to her. 

“ I told you that the time would soon come for you to wel- 
come me again,” smiled William, as he held out his hand. 
‘‘ Your door will be open, I hope, to Geofiry Dane, though it 
was not to William Lydney.” 

“ And Maria?” - she uttered, unable to take in at once all 
the wonders. 

‘‘ Oh! I had serious thoughts of running away with Maria,” 
laughed he, “ but Mr. Lester has obviated the necessity. He 
tells me I may take her without. ” 

Miss Bordillion gazed after the carriage as it swept round 
the gravel drive, and at William’s face, which still smiled 
upon her from the window. 

I never will be persuaded out of my senses again,” em- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


310 


phatically uttered she. “My judgment trusted him, my 
heart spoke for him; but because others turned against him, I 
must needs do the same; and now I am just paid out.^^ 

Lady Adelaide had gone up to her chamber with their de- 
parture, and there sat Tiffle on a stool of thorny impatience. 
She was big with news. 

“ Not but what I’m grieved to have it to disclose, my lady, 
for it’s awfial inaq nitty,” quoth she. “ Knowing your lady- 
ship was not down, and hearing voices in the drawing-room, I 
made bold to put my eye to the key-hole, and there I saw — 
but it’s too barefaced to tell your ladyship, and makes me red 
all over down to the extrimities of my toes. ” 

“ Tell it on,” said Lady Adelaide. 

“ My lady, there was that advinterer there — that Lydney — ' 
and he had got Miss Lester all held close to him, her face 
upon — if you’ll excuse my mintioning the word — his breast, 
my lady, and he was a-kissing of her like anything.” 

“You and I may have been kissed in our days, Tiffle,” was 
the cool response of Lady Adelaide. “ I expect she will soon 
be his wife.” 

“His wife!” shrieked Tiffle, in her amazement. “ Lyd- 
ney’s? What, and go out with him a Botany Bay convict?” 

“Tiffle!” reprimanded her ladyship, in a sharj), haughty 
tone. “ Have the goodness to recollect yourself; you are 
speaking of Miss Lester.” 

She pointed to the door as she spoke, and Tiffle retired, 
cowed and thunder-struck. One of the under-servants met her 
and said that Shad was outside the back-entrance asking for her. 

“Shad! come here asking for me!” responded Tiffle, in a 
great amount of wrath. “I’ll teach him to come after me, 
oudacious little reptile! That Granny Bean is forever wanting 
fresh stuff for her rheumitix.” 

“ Granny said I was to cut and teil you, and not to mind 
calling at the house for once,” began Shad, in an under-tone, 
when Tiffle reached him. “ Lord Dane’s come back.” 

“ Come back from where?” cried Tiffle. “ Where has he 
been?” 

“Not him at the Castle; he ain’t Lord Dane no more. 
T’other’s come — him what they says fell over the cliff, but he 
come to life again. He have took up his footing at the Castle, 
and t’other ’ll have to turn out. Granny said I was to tell ye 
as Lydney — ” 

“ Well!” said Tiffle, impatiently, staring with all her eyes. 

“ Get on quicker. ” 

“ As Lydney have been here in disguise, a-looking after what 


320 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


folks did wrong, but not a-helping of ’em, as was thought. 
He’s t’other’ s son, and his name’s Geoifry Dane, and he’ll be 
Lord Dane after him.” 

Tiffle gathered in the words, gathered in her own politics of 
the past, and fell back in a real fainting-fit. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

LOED DAHE’S levee.— the FLAG HALF-MAST HIGH. 

Xeyek, sure, was such a levee seen or heard of. It had no 
parallel in history, ancient or modern. Her Majesty some- 
times has a crowded court, her subjects pressing in to do her 
honor; but her crowds are all of that class who bask on the 
sunny side of life; no Lazarus must mix with them. The 
levee at Dane Castle was of a different nature. 

It appeared that Lord Dane, with his induction to the home 
of his ancestors, had taken a new lease of life, so well did he 
appear. His malady was of a nature to cause him at times 
excruciating agony, varied with interludes, lasting perhaps a 
week or fortnight, even more, of freedom from pain. His last 
attack at the Sailor’s Rest, when he sent for Mr. Apperly, had 
been so violent as to induce a belief in himself and Dr. Green 
that the end was fast approaching, but he appeared now to 
have completely rallied from it. Excitement is of benefit in 
some cases; perhaps it had been so to him. 

The Castle was thrown open at ten o’clock on the morning 
of the levee — a brilliant morning in winter, with a blue sky 
and a bright sun. It was known to be Lord Dane’s pleasure 
that all should attend it, of whatever degree, high or low — of 
whatever character, bad or good. Hot confined to the Dives 
of life was it — the aristocratic few of Lord Dane’s own rank, 
who might claim the right of entree ; not confined was it to 
the still more scanty few of the good and great; the poor fish- 
erman was as welcome as the exclusive gentleman; and the 
poachers and smugglers were expressly told to be there. The 
lower end of the large hall was lined with the Dane retainers, 
in their handsome livery of purple, their white coats laced with 
silver. Bruff and Ravensbird stood behind Lord Dane: un- 
commonly proud was Bruff that day. 

How fast the visitors flocked in, none could tell save those 
who witnessed it; all pushing eagerly to welcome and do honor 
to Lord Dane. Had he been made of hands there would 
scarcely have been sufficient to satisfy the ardent crowd. He 
stood with them both outstretched; he had a kind look, a low, 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


321 


heartfelt word for all. His son stood at his right hand, and 
he presented him individually to all. Wilfred Lester was 
also very near him, treated by him with marked affection and 
distinction; Lord Dane was determined to do what could 
toward bringing Wilfred back to his proper standing in society 
— toward reinstating him in the respect of the world. ^Men 
saw with surprise that day that Squire Lester also paid con- 
sideration to his son; it must be remembered that the last and 
worst escapade — the breaking into the Hall — was not known or 
suspected to be his work. 

“ Ah, my lord^*’ cried Mr. Wild, the surgeon, as he too 
offered his greetings to Lord Dane, but it was not well of 
you to be attended by a stranger at the Sailor^s Rest. Doctor 
Green- has been but two years in the place; and I grew up in 
.it; your father thought me skillful enough for him. 

Lord Dane laid his hand on the doctor’s shoulder. 

“ Wild,” he laughed, “ I appoint your surgeon in ordinary 
to me from henceforth; not that I shall live to employ you 
long; you must get my son to fall ill after I am gone, and 
exercise your skill on him. Why, man, don’t you see the rea- 
son of my calling in a stranger instead of you. You would 
have knovvn me for Harry Dane at the first glance, and would 
have gone crowing with the secret all over Danesheld; that 
would not have suited my plans just then.” 

Mr. Wild shook his head. 

It has taken me down a notch, though, to think that you 
should have called in a stranger.” 

When the Hall was full and peojile had done coming in, so 
far as could be judged, William Dane — no longer William 
Lydney — left his father’s side and mixed with the crowd. 
Nearly the first his eye lighted particularly on, was Inspector 
Young. 

“ I hope, sir, you won’t remember past times with resent- 
ihent,” began he, “ and visit your displeasure upon me when 
you come into power as chief of Danesheld.” 

“What an idea!” laughed William. “I gave you credit 
for better sense. Young; or at any rate believed that you 
would givre me credit for better. You did your simple duty, 
and none of us can do more. We shall be famous friends,” 
he added, holding out his hand; and the gratified man took it 
graspingly. His night’s rest had been spoiled by the thought 
that he had taken into custody and treated as a common pris- 
oner the Hon. Geoff ry William Dane. 

Who should William come upon next, skulking near the 
door behind the servants, and not daring to advance, but Ben 
11 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATK. 


Beeclier. ' It was the first time they had met since the mid- 
night encounter in Squire Lester’s hall; Beecher and his two 
companions had been keeping themselves close and quiet since; 
but they had ventured to the Castle this day, arguing that 
their absence might tell against them worse than their pres- 
ence; so they had assumed what bold faces they might and fol- 
lowed in the wake of the stream. Their share in the exploit 
was known to two or three; it was perhaps suspected by Squire 
Lester; but there was no fear that further notice would be 
taken; for since the disclosure relative to his son, Squire Les- 
ter had become as anxious to hush up the affair as he had pre- 
viously been to investigate it. "William Dane knew this. 

“ Is it you, Ben Beecher, come to pay me a visit in my own 
house?” he cheerily began. ‘^More space to welcome you 
here than I had at the Sailor’s Best. Why don’t you come 
forward to my lord? your father has already had his confab 
out with him. ” 

Sir, how could you go on deceiving us and blinding us in 
that way?” returned Ben Beecher, in a tone of tiniid depreca- 
tion. If we had dreamed that you were the Lord Dane — or 
as good as the lord — should we ever have let you know our 
secrets? Why, there’s not a thing about us but what you 
know, even the very worst.” 

“ I am glad I do,” replied William. 

It has just stopped our fun forever!” uttered Beecher. 

“I hope it has,” he laughed. ‘‘That is the very best 
calamity that could hapi^en you. ” 

“ Yes, sir; but may just have us all took up to-morrow, 
and transported upon your sole evidence.” 

“ Ko, Beecher, I shall not do that,” he gravely answered. 
“ I would much rather keep you here, in the hope that you 
will be loyal dependents of mine when I do become your lord. 

I wish that time might be very far ofi, Beecher; but I fear it 
IS all too close. You say 1 had knowledge of the worst; I cer- 
tainly did know of your ventures in the poaching line, and I 
did hold to the hope that there your sins ended; I never could 
have believed that you would rush upon the crime of midnight 
house-breaking. I should have been the first to give you into 
custody had I know it. What could have possessed you to en- 
gage—” 

‘ Hush-sh-sh!” interrupted Beecher, glancing round him 
with a pale face. But the room was too full of humming 
commotion to afford a chance of its overhearing. “ The whole 
fault was Wilfred Lester’s; he beguiled us into it; I swear he 
did. Sir, he never put it to us in the light of a crime; he 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


323 


harped upon his own wrongs, his father's cruelty, and said 
would we help him to get out his own deed. I'm sure what he 
said might have talked a regiment of saints into helping him." 

It was a crime and a disgraceful one," repeated William 
Dane; all the accessories were bad. The disguising crape 
alone would have stamped you villains. It is all very well to 
lay the blame on Wilfred Lester -I do not deny he bears the 
chief share of it — to say the abstraction of the deed was the 
object; unless I am mistaken, your object was the plate-chest." 

When men of our sort get put right in the way of tempta- 
tion, you, being what you are, sir, can't understand how well- 
nigh impossible it is for 'em to go aside from it," was Beech- 
er's answer. 

“ Yes, lean, I can understand it all," interrupted William. 

Once inside the house, took into It, too, by the squire's own 
son, and the plate chest handy, it was hardly in the nature of 
man not to help themselves," pleaded Beecher. “ We should 
never have put our necks in the noose of our own accord, but 
AVill Lester, he took us into it; and that's how it was. If it 
was the last word I had to speak, we never did such a thing 
afore, and the fright has been such a lesson to us that we 
shall never do it again. Passing on shore a bit of tobacco, or 
taking off a hare, or a stray goose, or a chicken, have been in 
our line, but not them graver things. There is a set who 
dodge about Danesheld and other neighboring places, as their 
work or the police let them, and go into worse things, and we 
know 'em, and are friendly with 'em; but we have never 
joined 'em, and we wouldn't do it, and that I declare 's the 
truth. It was them I thought might have helped themselves 
to the box when it was missing, Mr. Lydney." 

“ Mr. Dane," corrected William, with a smile. 

“ Dash my memory! I wish it never had been Dane, 
though. Is Squire Lester going to issue a warrant against us 
— does he suspect it was us?" continued the man, again glanc- 
ing round him. 

‘‘ Whether Squire Lester suspects or not, I can not inform 
you; he does not know. Do you know what my opinion is, 
Beecher?" 

What, sir?" 

‘ ^ That the better mode of proceeding for all parties will be 
to do nothing; but to let the affair die out in silence. Were I 
Lord Dane, I should recommend that to Squire Lester with 
all my influence. ' ' 

“Ah, if he would!" uttered Beecher, his eyes sparkling. 

“ Allow me to recommend you — all of you who were eu- 


321 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


guged ill it — to be entirely silent. Never speak of it even 
among yourselves; never let the name of Wilfred Lester, as 
connected with it, escape yoiir lips. It is the only safe plan. 
Were he brought to book for it, you must inevitably be brought 
also; my own evidence, which I should be called upon then to 
give, would convict you. Eemember, I saw and recognized 
you three in the house, but I did not see him in it.” 

“ True, true,” whispered Beecher. “ Oh, sir! if you would 
but be merciful to us, and keep our counsel! We’d promise 
faithfully never to go upon your lands in return for it. I’m 
sure if we had known that night that it was the young Lord 
of Lanesheld who pounced upon us in the Hall, and not Mr. 
Lydney, I for one should have been fit to go and hang myself. 

As to splitting upon Wilfred Lester, we should never do that 
for our own sakes.” 

Beecher, will you make a bargain with me? If I under- 
take that — through my influence, or my father’s, with Squire 
Lester — ^you shall never be proceeded against for this mid- 
night crime, even should your participation in it come to Squire 
Lester’s ears, will you promise, on your parts, to drop the dis- 
reputable lives you have hitherto been leading, eschew expedi- 
tions against game and gamekeepers, and let the Dane lands 
alone?” 

‘‘ Yes, we will,” answered Beecher, eagerly. 

In our first encounter in the wood, which you may not 
have forgotten, I told you that it was no business of mine did 
you prowl about the Dane preserves all day, a gun in one hand 
and snares in the other, seeing they were not mine. Virtually 
they were mine, at least my father’s, but actually they were in 
possession of him who was then called Lord Dane. I told ^ 

you also, that if they were mine, the affair would be very ; 

different. You must see that it is, Beecher. It is my duty ■ 
now to protect the lands, and I shall do it.” i 

I can’t gainsay it, my lord,” returned Beecher, who seemed i 
lost in thought. ^ 

‘‘ What slips of the tongue you do make!” merrily cried 
William. ‘‘ I am no more ‘ my lord ’ than I am ‘ Mr. Lyd- 
ney;’ you were dreaming of the future, I expect. The ex-lord, 

Mr. Herbert, had a reverence for game, people say; I hav€ 
more reverence for one man’s well doing than I have for all 
the game in England; nevertheless, I respect and shall uphold 
the game-laws. Can not you and I contrive to remain friends, 
Beecher, in spite of them?” 

Friends!” echoed the man, with deep feeling. 

“ I said friends. It will be your fault if we are not. You 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


3:^5 


can not suppose I shall take advantage of the past in any way; 
of the knowledge which circumstances brought to me touch- 
ing your pursuits. You once said, Beecher, that had you 
been dealt with in a kinder spirit, you might have been differ- 
ent men. Suppose you begin to be so from this day, and I 
will help you. Wrong doings will not fit you for the next 
world, or speak for you when you get the re. 

Beecher made no answer; his face was working 
‘‘ You shall have constant work on the estate, and be well 
paid for it in fair wages; a more safe and certain living, that, 
than what you obtain from your night expeditions. The 
estate has been well kept up, but its laborers have been neg- 
lected; I shall hope to go upon a different plan, to make it a 
model one. 

“ The estate or the men?^^ cried Beecher, with little regard 
to the laws of grammar. 

“ Both,^^ smiled William Dane. ‘‘ The men must be true 
to me, and I shall be true to them. They must give me their 
best service, not eye-service, and 1 will ever consider their 
true interests in a kind and wjatchful spirit; in short, I in- 
tend that we should be friends in the best sense of the word, 
they and I, identifying our interest one with the other. Will 
you be one, Beecher?^’ 

The man half stole his hand out before he answered. 

“ Ay, I will, sir; ITl do as you wish me; for I^m pretty 
near tired of the life I have led.^^ 

“ A bargain! and we will neither of us go from it,^^ whis- 
pered William as he shook the other^s hand. 

But there was another colloquy, one perhaps more interest- 
ing to the reader, taking place in a further corner of the apart- 
ment! and those holding it were Herbert, ex-Lord Dane, and 
Richard Eavensbird. 

“ Concealment for us all is over with its necessity, Ravens- 
bird,"’"’ Herbert Dane was observing. Your conduct of the 
past puzzled me: let me hear its explanation.^^ 

Eavensbird looked at him steadily. 

“Are you speaking of the time of the accident, sir? when . 
my master fell from the heights? 

“ I am. I thought your manners then were remarkably 
strange. To begin with, you protested to me that you could 
lay your finger upon the man who' had caused it. What in- 
duced you to say that? and to whom did you allude?^^ 

“ Shall I speak out freely, sir? I must, if I speak at all. 

“ I wish you to speak out, otherwise I should not have de- 
sired you. 


326 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


“ Then, sir, I entertained no manner of doubt that my mas- 
ter had been deliberately pushed over; murdered. And I be- 
lieved it was you who had doue it.” 

“ The doubt was upon me at the time that you suspected 
me. But why should you have done so?’^ 

“ Because I knew that both you and he were after my Lady 
Adelaide. I was his servant, firm to his interests, and it was 
I who told him she favored you and not him. I had been the 
previous evening in the ruins, and I saw your meeting with 
her. Sir, why frown upon me in that haughty manner? I 
am speaking out at your request, but I can be silent if you will. 
I told my master that you and she were in the habit of meet- 
ing there, and I got kicked out for it. When, that same 
night, a struggle took place on the heights close to the ruins, 
ending in my master’s destruction, I naturally looked abroad 
for motives that might have induced it. Danesheld gave me 
the credit for it. I knew that I was innocent — -that I had 
not been near the place; and my own suspicions naturally flew 
to you. I felt as certain, Mr. Herbert, that you had done the 
deed as that I had not donejt; and if I could have enter- 
tained doubt at all, you yourself, sir, drove it awa3% ” 

“ In what manner?” 

“You told me that you could hang me — that the threats 
against Captain Dane which I had uttered in your presence in 
the morning would be sufficient to hang me, if you chose to 
disclose them. I said to you, then, why did you not hang me? 
and you replied that you would not ga out of your way to do 
it, for you had no ill-will against me, and that if you got me 
hung on the nearest tree, it would not recall the past, or bring 
the dead back to life. I had my common sense about me, and 
I knew that if you were innocent, you would be the first to tell 
of those threats. I was but an obscure servant — you were one 
of the Danes, and his cousin. J ust for a little moment that 
s-tory of the packman staggered me; but I soon threw it away 
as worthless. Sir, you and I were playing a crafty game with 
each other then. You saw I suspected you; I felt sure that 
you saw it; you urged me that it would be better if I quitted 
Danseheld; I answered that I should stay in it, and I boldly 
demanded of you the preference, when you were granting the 
lease of the Sailor’s Rest. Mr. Herbert, I felt that you would 
not dare to refuse me.” 

“ What could have been your attraction to Danesheld?” in- 
quired Herbert Dane. “ One would have thought you would 
be glad to quit it, after having been arrested for the murder.” 

“That is just the reason I remained in it, sir. I felt as cer- 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


327 


tain that the time would come when I should be cleared, as cer- 
tain as that the cloud had fallen. It occurred to me at the time 
to declare my suspicions to Lord Dane; but in the first place I 
had no proof that it was you, and in the second, my lord was 
so bitter against me, believing I was the transgressor, that he 
would probably have refused all credit to anything I might 
have f;aid. Thank a good Providence that it is at last cleared!” 
fervently continued Kavensbird, “ and in a brighter manner 
than any of us expected. ” 

“ Aj,” echoed Herbert Dane, in a tone of unmistakable re- 
lief. ‘‘ If I lose my wealth and honors, Eaveusbird, I gain 
peace. There is one thing never accounted for: your absence 
from the Sailor^s Eest for an hour and a half that same night, 
and your refusal to state where you were.^^ 

'‘I was in no mischief,” answered Eavensbird, a comical 
look on his grim countenance. “ I was doing a bit of court- 
ing, and I did not choose to proclaim my private affairs for the 
benefit of Danesheld. I had spoken a hasty word to Sophie 
when I left the Castle, in the morning, and whispered her to 
meet me in the evening, when my Lady Adelaide should be 
dressed for dinner. Sophie came, and we were pacing about 
in the field-path behind the Castle all the while. It was bright 
moonlight. 

“ Pray did you honor me by imparting your suspicions of 
me to Sophie — after the catastrophe occurred?” 

“ Not I, sir,” returned Eavensbird, shaking his head. 
“ Sophie^s no better than, other women, where the tongue is 
concerned, and it would pretty soon have been all over Danes- 
held. I never disclosed them, Mr. Herbert, to a living soul; 
if I suspected you myself, I did not do you the injury of try- 
ing to put you wrong wdth others. Many and many a time, 
though, have I wondered that Sophie did not suspect, because 
she knew about you and Lady Adelaide, and also that I im- 
parted it to Captain Dane before he kicked me out; but she 
never seemed to glance at that phase of the question, and I was 
glad she did not. ” 

“ You must have been thunder-struck when the life-boat 
brought him ashore. 

“ Thunder-struck!” echoed Eavensbird, that^s not a strong 
enough word, sir; there’s no part of speech in the English 
language that is; and I thought what a jackass I had been, to 
mistake that body, cast up, for his. 1 did not know him till 
— let me see, I think it was the next night: he had kept him- 
self covered over with the bedclothes, and hid his face with 
that purple shade, so that I had not had any look at him, to 


328 


LADY Adelaide’s oats. 


speak of. The next night he began talking about Danesheld, 
saying he had once been near the place; and what with his 
astonishment at hearing of its changes, and what with finding 
that I was as true and attached to him as ever I had been in 
my life, why he pushed the shade up and let me see his 
features. The surprise pretty well knocked me down. We 
were obliged to tell Sophie, because she would have recognized 
him as readily as I, and he could not always keep his face hid; 
and his eyes ■ got well directly, affording no excuse for the 
shade. How Sophie succeeded in keeping the secret, and 
mortifying her tongue as long as she did, will always be a joke 
against her; but my lord threatened her with unheard-of pen- 
alties if she disclosed it.^’ 

‘‘You must have known that Captain Daiie, when he fell, 
had a son living in America?^’ 

“ Of course I knew it, sir; but I did not consider I was 
bound to disclose it. I like to let other people ^s business 
alone. I argued that the young gentleman, who was then 
fourteen, would be safe to come over and see after his father, 
and it would be time enough then for me to bear testimony 
here that he was truly his son. 'When the years went on, and 
Master William never came, I used to fear he was dead, and 
wondered who had inherited all the money. But that I did 
not care to leave the inn and Sophie to take care of them- 
selves, I might have gone over to the States to see how it was, 
for the lad was always a favorite of mine; worth his weight in 
gold: and thankful I am that he has turned up all right at last. 

The levee came to an end, and the Castle resumed its quiet- 
ness. Herbert Dane remained for the present the guest of 
Lord Dane, as did Wilfred Lester and his wife; and the 
strange sensation caused by the return was beginning to sub- 
side in Danesheld. 

A family dinner-party was about to be held in the Castle, 
no guests invited save the Lesters and Miss Bordillion. Miss 
Dane, who still officiated as the Castle^ s mistress, made her 
appearance in the drawing-room on the appointed evening, a 
perfect marvel of gauze, ringlets, flowers, and pretty colors. 
Edith was with her, quiet and sad, and soon arrived Lady 
Adelaide, her husband, and Maria; next. Miss Bordillion. 
In short, all had assembled except Lord Dane. 

“ Dinner is served, my Ibrd,’^ announced Bruff, throwing 
wide the door for them to pass out; but William spoke hastily: 
“ His lordship is not here yet, Bruff.'’^ 

“ Oh — I beg your pardon, sir. I understood James to say 
that dinner was being waited for. ’’ 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 329 

‘‘ Bruff, you had better apprise my lord," cried out Miss 
Dane. 

He went across the corridor to Lord Dane's room, and 
knocked at it. There was no reply. Bruff knocked again. 
Still there came no answer, and the man then tried the door. 

It was fastened. He went back to the drawing-room, and 
beckoned' out William. 

“ Sir, I can't get into my lord's room, and I can not make 
him hear. I fear he must be ill." 

“ Dead," was on Bruff's tongue, remembering the precari- 
ous state of Lord Dane, but he did not utter it. William 
hastened to the door. The rest, who had caught sight of 
Bruff's alarmed countenance, followed him. William put up 
his finger for silence, and liis ear to the door, but not a sound 
was heard. 

“ My dear father, are you ready? We are waiting for you,'^ 
he said, in a clear, distinct voice. 

No response. 

“ Do, pray, speak just one word. Lord Dane, if only to 
assure us you are not in a fit," cried Miss Dane, in coaxing 
and trembling accents, for she was easily alarmed. “ Harry, 
then! you speak?" 

“I shall break open the door," said William, hurriedly. 

Had you not better" — he looked at the ladies — ‘‘go back 
to the drawing-room?" 

The door was forced, and there lay Lord Dane on the bed. 
He was not dead, but he appeared to have fainted; feeling ill, 
he had probably thrown himself on the bed for a few min- 
utes' rest. 

“ Mr. Wild and Doctor Green, instantly," whispered AVill- 
iam to Bruff. 

Lord Dane revived to speech and consciousness before they 
arrived, but death was upon him. 

“ The night will close it, William," he said, “ but I have 
waited for it long. Maria," t^^dng her hand, “you will be 
William's wife?" 

“ Yes," she answered, through her tears. 

“ Don't wait for months and months to elapse first, be- 
cause I have but just gone," he continued to them both. 
“Eemember, it is my wish that you marry shortly: and I 
leave rny blessing upon it. William will be here alone. 
Where is Adelaide?" he resumed, looking round, after a 
pause. 

She had remained in the drawing-room with Miss Dane. 

One of tliem went for her. 


330 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


‘‘ Come close to me, Adelaide,” he said, when she came in: 
“ stand by your husband; between your husband and Wilfred. 
Old grim Death has come for me, child: but I must say a 
few words to you before he penetrates quite in. Did it ever 
occur to you that you must sometime lie where I am lying? — 
on your death-bed?” 

Very pale and troubled looked Lady Adelaide, tut she did 
not answer. 

There is but one thing will serve you when you come to 
it — a clear conscience. I look back now on my past life, and 
vainly gasp forth the yearning wish that I had in many cases 
acted differently: though, of willful injustice, I can not charge 
my memory. It is not, however, to tell of my faded life, my 
sins and my atonements, that I speak: they lie between me 
and my merciful Father, to whom I am hastening. Adelaide, 
when you come to this hour, what will your conscience say 
to you for the manner in which you have treated Wilfred Les- 
ter?” 

She burst into tears; the last sentence^ was uttered impera- 
tively. 

‘‘ My dear, you have been guilty of terrible injustice: and 
I think that your eyes must have had perverting scales thrown 
before them,” pursued Lord Dane. “ W'ilfred is your hus- 
band’s eldest son; he has an equal right to partake of his sub- 
stance with your own children; but you have driven him. upon 
the world without means or resource, that they might enjoy 
the more. Do you imagine that injustice such as this can 
be acceptable to God? or that it will be permitted to prosper?” 

A deep silence, broken only ))y the sobs of Lady Adelaide. 

“ You must change this course of conduct, and repair the 
injury, if you would obtain peace at last. I speak to you, 
more than to Lester, because you have been the chief actor 
and mover. What could possibly have so set you against 
Wilfred Lester?” 

“ It was Tiffie,” broke ou^Lady Adelaide, in her emotion. 

She is always exciting me against him.” 

‘‘ Show Tiffle the door,” returned Lord Dane, with a touch 
of his old fire. “ I must leave you reconciled.” 

He took Wilfred’s hand in his open palm, and looked at 
hers. She immediately put hers into it. Mr. Lester did the 
same. 

“ And now yours, Edith,” said Lord Dane. 

The four hands were clasped together— token of the recon- 
ciliation, the good feeling that from that hour was to dawn 
upon them. 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 


331 


‘‘ Love and unity/^ murmured Lord Dane. “ Strew your 
path with them, and they will stand by to serve you ever; 
scatter it with thorns, and they will turn and prick you at the 
last. Adelaide, they are my dying words to you!” 

% % % % ^ 4c 

All too quickly there was another levee at the Castle; but 
* this time the world came in with saddened faces and suDdued 
tread, pressing on to the death-room. The flag floated half- 
mast high over the gate, and the trestles stood on the flag-floor, 
bearing their bier — William Henry, seventeenth Baron Dane, 
lay on it. 

Never were there half the followers at any funeral of the 
Danes, as at this. The interment took place on a cold, bright 
day — the blue sky overhead, and the white snow covering the 
ground and the landscape. A marked contrast did that long, 
sable train present — all walking — to the glitter of the snow, 
as they wound round from the Castle gates to the private 
chapel at a short distance — not the chapel of the ruins. The 
officiating clergyman advanced first in his surplice and hood; 
the coflSn was borne next, attended by its pall -bearers: after 
it, bare-headed and alone, walked Geoffry William, now Lord 
Dane; behind him came Herbert Dane and Squire Lester; 
next, the Earl of Kirkdale and Wilfred Lester; others fol- 
lowed; and last, the servants, Bruff and Eavensbird heading 
them. And thus the true William Henry Dane was at length 
consigned to the vault of his ancestors, side by side with that 
unknown stranger who had been buried for him. 

Mr. Apperly produced the will on their return to the 
Castle. It was dated but very recently — after the late lord 
had taken up his abode at it. A handsome sum was be- 
queathed absolutely to Herbert Dane, equivalent to twelve 
hundred a year: Miss Dane gained an annuity of three hun- 
dred. A remembrance was left to Lady Adelaide, and five 
thousand pounds to Wilfred Lester, as “ a thank-offering for 
having saved my life, and that of one far more precious to 
me: my dear son, Geoff ry William.” A thousand pounds was 
left to Bruff, and two thousand pounds to ‘‘ my faithful friend 
and servant, Eichard Eavensbird;” a like sum — two thousand 
pounds — was directed to be equally divided between the 
Castle servants; and the rest of his large fortune was be- 
queathed to his son — not counting the revenues of Dane, 
which’ came to him by law. 

“ What a wealthy man he has died?” quoth the gossips. 

So he had. But he had spent nothing like the whole of his 
income abroad. William Lydney had been fully justified in 


332 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


asserting that Squire Lester was entirely welcome to Marians 
fourteen thousand pounds. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A WEDDIHG-BKEAKFAST. — THE LAST SCEHE OH THE HEIGHTS. 

Ohce more there was a large gathering of the people at 
Danesheld. But this time it was not of a sad nature, neither 
did it take place at the Castle, but at the residence of Squire 
Lester. Following the injunction of his father, William had 
not long deferred his marriage, and on as balmy a day as May 
ever brought forth, he was united to Maria. 

They had returned from church, and were now seated at 
the breakfast, a goodly company. Lord and Lady Dane in 
the middle of the table; opposite to them, Mr. Lester and Lady 
Adelaide; Wilfred sat by^his sister^s side, and Edith by Lord 
Dane. Many friends were present. Bruff, in attendance on 
his lord, paraded his portly form by the sideboard, to the ad- 
miration of Squire Lester^s less exalted staff of servants, and 
Ravensbird had invited himself, to wait upon anybody. As to 
Sophie, she had quitted the Sailor’s Rest for the Hall at six 
o’clock that morning, protesting in all her national vanity that 
nobody but herself could turn out Miss Lester fit to be seen. 

Miss Dane was present, in the most ravishing of costumes — 
so coquettish and airy that it was difiicult to believe anybody 
but Sophie, with her French taste, had had a hand in it. 
Herbert Dane was not there. He had left, to take up his res- 
idence in Paris, and there he would probably remain for a 
permanency. He had always favored the gay city, and Eng- 
land was no longer a sunny land to him. Miss Dane lived in 
his house covered with the ivy: — the reader visited it one even-, 
ing when he was Herbert Dane. Very vexed was she to leave 
the Castle, but where was the help for it? Soon after Lord 
Dane’s death, when future plans were being talked over, and 
Wilfred and Edith had returned to their own cottage, her 
brother told her she might occupy his old house, as he did not 
intend to do so. 

“ Oh, thank you all the same, Herbert,” was Miss Dane’s 
hasty reply, ‘‘ but I would prefer to stop at the Castle.” 

‘‘ At the Castle! How can you? You will not be wanted 
here. Ask William if you will.” ^ 

Miss Dane, rather offended, went off on the spur of the mo- 
ment to find William. In a pretty little speech, all airs and 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. SoH 

graces, and Lydia-Languish looks, she proposed to remain with 
him as housekeeper. 

“ But I shall soon be bringing a housekeeper home, Cecilia,” 
was his reply, in a laughing tone of remonstrance. 

^ “ Oh, dear! then it is true! I never did put the question 
direct to you or to Miss Lester, and could not think of paying 
attention to the insinuations^ of others. I should manage the 
household better than she will, being accustomed to it; I wish 
I could stay, William — only as a cousin, of course, simpered 
she, casting down her eyes and her blushing cheeks. 

William thought it about as direct an offer as a gentleman 
could well receive. He suppressed the merriment in his eye, 
and replied in a grave tone. 

‘ ‘ I fear you have spoken without counting the cost. I am 
young; you are — ^youhg too; what would scandal-loving Hanes- 
held say:” 

Oh, dear!” shrieked Miss Dane, with a start, ‘‘ would it, 
do you suppose? I never did think of that. Then I may as 
well accept Herbert's offer of his house.” 

She hastened from the room, her silk apron held before her 
eyes, and William burst into a viol^it fit of laughter; so pro- 
longed and irrepressible that the sober Bruff, who just then 
came in, thought his young lord had suddenly gone crazy. 

Miss Dane, therefore, took up her abode in the offered 
house, with a cordial intimation that the Castle would be de- 
lighted to welcome her at any and every opportunity; and here 
she was at the wedding. Perhaps the next best thing to being 
the bride was to be one of the bride-maids, for in that capac- 
ity did Miss Dane officiate this morning. 

The breakfast had proceeded to the toast-giving. The health ^ 
of Lord and Lady Dane had been drunk, and William was 
standing, a flush on his handsome face, to return thanks, when 
the door slowly opened, and a tall, spare stranger,- with a mil- 
itary air, and his sallow features bronzed, stood at it, leisurely 
surveying the company. The company, in their turn, sur- 
veyed him, and William paused. He seemed to strike upon 
their senses somewhat after the fashion of Banquets ghost.- A 
dead silence supervened, and not a few of the visitors began to 
wonder whether this could be a second Lord Dane sprung 
from the dead. 

“ Which is Edith?” ^ * 

Curious words to come from him, and the sea of faces stared 
in blank consternation, Edith^s not less blank than theirs. 
Suddenly, there was a faint, yearning ciy, and Miss Bordillion ^ 
sprung toward him. 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATS:. 


S34 

“ My brother! I am sure it is my brother 

“ Yes, it was Colonel Bordillioii. ‘He had just landed from 
India, having come home without apprising any one. 

Oh, there was congratulation! Mr. Lester pressed forward. 
Lady Adelaide, others who had known him many, many years 
ago — all with their eager welcome. Edith could not remem- 
ber him; he had parted from her, a little child of six, when 
she was sent over from India; and she stood confused, scarce- 
ly understanding who it really was. lie looked around, per- 
haps naturally, for the youngest and the fairest, and drew 
close to her and Maria, surveying each alternately. 

You are Edith, he said, lying his hand on Maria. 

“ Oh, papa, papa, no— it is^F’ said Edith, then, as she 
fully realized that it was her father, and flung herself into his 
arms with a burst, of hysterical tears, “7 am Edith. 

“ And you?^^ said Colonel Bordillion, smiling upon Maria, 
after he had given a few moments to Edith. 

“ I am Maria Lester,^^ returned she, totally oblivious at the 
moment of her new name. 

“ And you must be Wilfred continued Colonel Bordil- 
lion, surveying the tall, handsome form that rose between 
Maria and Edith. 

“ Hot so, papa. This is Lord Dane. Wilfred is standing 
at your elbow. 

Colonel Bordillion greeted his son-in-law, and then turned 
to Lord Dane, his eyes rangins: over his noble features and 
manly bearing. 

It is the face and form of a Dane',” he said. “ But I 
knew not that there was a young heir to inherit. And what is 
' the cause of this festive assemblage?” 

“ Nothing but a wedding-breakfast,^-’ laughed Lord Dane. 
“ I have been making this young lady my wife.^^ 

“ Why, you have just told me your name was Maria Lester,^^ 
cried Colonel Bordillion, smiling down upon her blushing face. 

“ Forgetting that she has laid it aside forever,^ ^ put in Wil- 
fred. “ She should have said Maria Dane.” 

Colonel Bordillion sat down with them. He was an exceed- 
ingly guileless, open-speaking man, and he entered without 
ceremony upon his own affairs before everybody. 

“ I have done with service,’^ he observed, “ and have come 
home to rest during the’remainder of my days. You and I 
can live together, Margaret. 

“ Oh, yes, yes,^^ she answered; but there was a little catch- 
, ing sob of the breath as she remembered how very poor a house 
it was to welcome him to.^^ 


LADY ADELAIDE’S OATH. 335 

A sad affair that bank going/’ exclaimed one of the 
guests. ‘‘ Quite ruined you, did it not, colonel?” 

“ I thought so at first. It was believed there would not be 
a shilling for anybody, but it has turned out quite differently, 
^Ye have got back more than fifty per cent.' of our losses. 
Over thirty thousand pounds they have refunded to me. ” 

Over thirty thousand pounds? The poor Colonel Bordillion! 
Squire Lester sat and stared at him. Margaret stole a glance 
at Edith, and laid a hand upon her own beating heart. 

“ Why, you must have been a sixty-thousand-pound man, 
colonel!” exclaimed peppery little Lawyer Apperly. ‘‘ What 
an immense fortune!” 

“ What do you wear out youiTives in India for, but to make 
fortunes?” laughed the colonel. “ I assure you, the very in- 
stant I could draw my dividend — ” 

“ Thirty thousand, you say?” 

‘‘ Eather more. The instant I drew it, I made arrange- 
ments for returning home to relieve my honored friend and 
connection. Squire Lester. It has fallen to him to supply his 
son and daughter-in-law with an income hitherto, and I 
thought it high time I took my turn at the cost.” 

If ever a fiush of shame darkened a man’s countenance, it 
dyed at that moment George Lester’s. How had he supplied 
them? Left them to starve; nearly allowed Edith to drop 
into her grave from sheer famine; suffered Wilfred to go to 
ruin as fast as he pleased? Lady Adelaide, too! she glanced 
at Edith — a pleading glance from her burning eyelids; it 
seemed to say, “ Do not, in pity, expose me!” So Edith un- 
derstood it, and a sweet look of loving assurance went back to 
Lady Adelaide. The least concerned of all was Miss Dane, 
shaking out her ringlets, and taking shy peeps at Colonel 
Bordillion; she was speculating upon whether the colonel was 
or was not too old for her, and whether it might be worth 
while to set her cap at him. 

Later, when Lord and Lady Dane had left, and the guests, 
saving the immediate family, had dispersed. Squire Lester re- 
tired to his study, and desired that Sarah should come to him, 
she being at the* Hall that day, partaking of the festivities of 
the servants. It had been troubling the mind of Mr. Lester, 
what he could do toward repairing the past. 

Sarah, take a seat,” began he, for Sarah had once been 
the valued nurse in the Lester family, during his first wife’s 
life-time. “ I want to know whether there are not some stand- 
ing debts owing from your house. They were pot all paid, 
up/^ 


336 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


‘^Yes, they were, sir. After Mr. Wilfred came into the 
money left him by Lord Lane.’’ 

“ Some, I know, were paid. But what was it that was said 
about your obtaining so many things on credit, even wine? 
Wilfred told me he could get no explanation from you about 
them, and that they were not settled. I should like to pay 
those debts myself. ” 

There never were any to pay,” returned Sarah, a smile 
stealing over her hard features. Why, sir, you can’t think 
I should have been able to get the credit renewed that had 
been stopped so long. I thought at the time how soft folks 
must be to fancy so. Every bit and drop that came in I went 
for with the money in my hand.” 

“Where did you get the money from him?” asked Mr. 
Lester, in astonishment. 

“ From one that Lanesheld was pulling to pieces as a thief 
and a vagabond,” was Sarah’s answer. “ I have wdshed when 
I heard ’em I could tie the whole place together and bump 
’em for it. He made friends with me, and told me I must 
join him in a little bit of deceit, for he could not see my mas- 
ter and mistress’s state without relieving it, and I did. He 
found the money, and I laid it out; and it is, ihanks to him, 
William Lydney, that Miss Edith is alive to see her father this 
day. If ever a young lady has gained a , prize, it’s your 
daughter, sir, in marrying him.” 

“ I think she has,” said Mr. Lester, with emotion. 

“ I know she has,” was the retort of Sarah. “ He was just 
going to the dogs as fast as he could go, was Mr. Wilfred; yes, 
sir, you are his father, but I’m not going to eat my words; 
racing to ’em he was, and William Lydney saved him, bear- 
ing all sorts of suspicion and scorn for Wilfred Lester’s sake. 
People talk of the noble Danes; but I’ll be whipped if ever 
there was one of the race half as noble as the present lord.” 

The next morning, while the Lesters were at breakfast, a 
violent noise, as of fighting, was heard in the hall. Lady 
Adelaide’s thoughts flew to her children, and she sprang to 
the room door and opened it. There stood Shad and Tiflie, 
engaged in a pitched battle, scratching, biting, tearing, and 
shrieking at each other. 

The cause was this: Shad had presented himself at the back 
door, apparently in a state of much excitement and fear, and 
demanded to see Tiflie. The girl who answered it ungra- 
ciously told him to “ Go and hunt for her;” for the fact was, 
Tiflie, who had got up in a most vile temper, had been mak- 
ing several of the servants sufler, this girl more particu- 


LADY Adelaide’s oath. 


337 


larly. Away went Shad up the passages, looking here, peep- 
ing there, until he came to the hall, where he caught sight of 
Tiffle, who was standing with her ear to the key-hole of a 
door, which happened to be that of the breakfast-ropm. Shad 
stole stealthily up behind, and laid hold of her. Tiffle, in her 
terror, for she thought she was caught, began, when she saw 
who it was, to pay him off by sundry tingling slaps on the 
cheeks and pullings of the hair. Shad, in his terror, not to 
say pain, retaliated, and the result was the battle. 

“ What is the meaning of this?” demanded Squire Lester, 
advancing. “ Tiffle!” 

Tiffle softened down to meekness; only by the flashing of 
her sly eyes could one have told how false the meekness was. 
Shad only howled. 

“ I’m sure I beg parding, sir, and my lady,” returned she. 
‘‘ This wicked raggamulfyan of Granny Bean’s come a-start- 
ling of me to throw me over, just as I was going into the break- 
fast-room to ask a question of my lady about little Miss Ada — ” 

“ You wasn’t a-going in,” raved Shad, in his anger; “ you 
was a-stopping at the door a-listening. ” 

“ Thready lies that these young creatures invent!” apos- 
trophize Tiffle, turning up her eyes. “I would not have 
cared for his startling of me, but it vexed me, sir, to see one 
like him a-pushing of himself into a gentleman’s house. Be 
quiet, you vagabone, and come along with me. I’ll soon put 
him out, my lady. ” 

“ Stop,” said Mr. Lester. How did you get in. Shad?” 

“ I come to the door and I asked for Mrs. Tiffle,” sobbed 
Shad; “ and the young woman she telled me to come and find 
her—” 

“ Asked for me — me,'' put in Tiffle, in a glow of indigna- 
tion. “ The impidence of that!” 

‘‘ What be I to do?” howled Shad. “ Granny’s dead, she 
is, and I be afraid to stop there. Who be I to tell?” 

‘‘ Granny Bean dead?” returned Mr. Lester. 

I’m sure on’t,” sniffed Shad. ‘‘ She’s a-sitting back in 
her chair, with her face blue, and her mouth open, and her 
eyes a-staring. I wondered as she didn’t screech at me to get 
up; so I lay abed, and when I went to her her face was like 
that. And, because I comes and tells, I’m kicked at and my 
hair tored out.” 

“ Please, sir, hadn’t I better go back with him, and see what 
it really is?” asked Tiffle, as mild now as milk. - 


338 


LADY ADELAIDE'S OATH. 


an instant first. Shad, you sit down there, added he, point- 
ing to a chair in the hall. Tiffle went in, and closed the door. 

“ Lady Adelaide and myself have come to the resolution of 
parting with you, Tifile. We have not been satisfied with you 
for some time, but suffered you to remain until Miss Lester^s 
marriage was over. You will quit the Hall this day month. 

Tiflde turned her face, growing livid with surprise and 
anger, from her master ^s to Lady Adelaide's; both looked 
calmly resolute. 

To pa-pa-part with me!^^ gasped Tiffle. What have I 
done.^^^ 

“ What have you not done in the way of mischief?’^ re- 
turned Mr. Lester. Ask your own conscience. But for 
your underhand plots and wicked doings, I should never have 
been opposed to my son in the manner I have. A servant who 
peers into private places, and listens behind doors and hedges, 
will no longer suit Danesheld Hall. 

“ I ! — 1 listen behind hedges!'’^ shrieked Tiffle; “ when do I 
go out to listen? It^s a lie!'’^ 

“ Tiffle! how dare you speak so before your lady? If you 
have not listened behind hedges yourself, you have taken care 
that your respectable friend, Mr. Shad, should do it. What 
is the nature of the connection or relationship between you 
and Shad?” abruptly concluded Mr. Lester. 

The question seemed to drive Tiffle wild. A connection be- 
tween her and Granny Beanes brat. Shad, she raved, who dared 
to insinuate it? 

“ It is of no consequence,^-^ replied Mr. Lester. ‘‘ Bemem- 
ber that you are out of the house this day month. And let me 
recommend you to drop your favorite employments — looking 
and listening — before you try for a situation in another fam- 
ily*"" 

Then out broke Tiffle; her rage mastered her, and she was 
as a very fiend let loose. She abused her master; she insulted 
Lady Adelaide. The servants came flocking in astonishment, 
and Mr. Lester put her out of the house there and then, pay- 
ing her on the spot the balance of her wages due. She be- 
stowed some benedictions, more loud than holy, upon the Hall, 
as she flounced out of it, pulling Shad with her. 

Sure enough Granny Bean was dead. Tiffle took up her 
residence in the hut, announcing that she should remain in it 
for the future, and boasting that she had well feathered her 
nest, and could live in comfort. What was to become of 
Shad? people asked. But, alas! that young gentleman turned 
out to bo tho ofispriug of the immaculate Tiffle. It came to 


Lady adelaide^s oath. 




light through some recent revelations of Granny Beanes. 
Tiffle at first denied it with glowing indignation, but when she 
found her denial was only laughed at, then she turned upon 
them and brazened it out. 

“ and she was proud of him, ^here!^’ Well 

she might be, for he was the very image of herself. 

* * ♦ si« * * 

The sun was sinking beyond the sea on one of the evenings 
in June, its last rays illumining a busy scene. What could be 
going on at Danesheld? It seemed as though all its popula- 
tion had dressed themselves in gala clothes, and had turned 
out to crowd, the heights. Anxiously were their eyes directed 
to the further extremity of the road; and as a carriage wound 
round the corner into view, symptoms of excitement arose. It 
was a chariot and four, its panels bearing- the Dane arms and 
coronet. Inside it sat Lord Dane and his wife. They were 
returning from their })ri^a,l-tour. Simultaneously with the 
sight of the chariot to the crowd came the sight of the crowd 
to the inmates of the chariot. 

“ What can this mean?^^ exclaimed Lord Dane, in the sur- 
prise of the moment. “ Look, Maria!^^' 

No need to ask long what it was, or why they had assembled 
there, for the low murmured tones of greeting grew into deep 
and heartfelt shouts — “Welcome home to Lord and Lady 
Dane!^^ The carriage advanced at a foot-pace; it could not 
get on quicker, unless it had crushed the people; and Lord 
Dane bowed on all sides, the frank smiles on his handsome 
face pleasing the shouters as much as the bows. 

“ William, I do believe that everybody is here!^^ exclaimed 
Maria, as rich and poor, high and low, were caught sight of 
in turn. “ There ^s your friend, Ben Beecher. ” 

Lord Pane looked out till he caught his eye, and gave him 
an especial smile and bow all to himself. Ben reddened with 
pride. ^ 

“And there^s Sophie, William! Do look! she is shaking 
her handkerchief! And there^s Mr. Apperly, shouting him- 
self hoarse. How kind they all are!^'’ 

Maria stopped, for at that moment a lovely bouquet was 
dashed into the carriage, nearly catching her on the cheek. 
She took it np, laughed, and leaned forward. 

“Thank you, thank you, Sophie !^^ for it had come from 
Mrs. Eavensbird. ^ 

A few paces more, and Lord Dane, taking his wife^s hand, 
pointed to a certain spot where stood two people, somewhat 
apart from each other. A woman in a gay, new, scarlet 


840 


LADY ABELAIDP/S OATH. 


shawl, and gay yellow bonnet, with pink bows inside, and a 
young gentleman in a suit of corduroy, ornamented with fancy 
metal buttons. 

“ See there, Maria.-’' 

“ Shad and Tiffle!" Maria uttered. I wonder she should 
have that boy with her. And how strangely she is dressed! 
What will mamma sayr" 

As to her having Shad with her, I have a strong suspicion 
that Shad has more right to be with her than with anybody 
else," said Lord Dane. 

“ What do you mean, William?" 

Lord Dane only laughed, and there 'was no time to pursue 
the theme, for the crowd grew denser. 

The gates of the Castle were thrown open, and the entrance 
was lined with the Dane retainers. Gathered before them 
stood welcomins: friends, Mr. and Lady Adelaide ^Lester and 
their children, Wilfred and Edith, Oolohel and Miss Bordil- 
lion, Miss Dane, and others. It was the last appearance of 
Wilfred Lester and his wife. In a day or two they were to de- 
part for town, an excellent appointment under Government 
having been obtained for him through the Dane interest. 

The carriage drew up, and as Lord Dane stepped from it, 
there was a flourish of trumpets, and a new and stately flag 
shot up from the center turret, to wave majestically over the 
Castle. The beams of the departing sun shone upon it, and 
acclamations rent the air. 

A few hasty greetings to relatives, and then William turned 
to give his flnal bows of thanks to the crowd. He was inter- 
rupted by a yellow bonnet, which had pushed through the 
ranks and planted itself before him. 

‘‘Here’s wishing of your lordship every happiness in life, 
and the same to your lordship’s lady," courtesied the false and 
brassy Tiffle. “ Though I have been shamefully used and 
abused, ancL turned out of my place since your lordship’s de- 
parture, I’m not one to bear malice, and says I to Shad, 
‘ We’ll go up with the rest, and offer our kingretilations this 
onspicious day to Lord and Lady Dane.’ ’’ 

‘^Lord and Lady Dane beg to thank you," was William’s 
response, somewhat coldly spoken. 

“ And I’ve taken up my risidince in the cottage which was 
Granny Beans, having accumulated enough for a small inde- 
pindince,’’ answered Tiffle. “ And if I can serve your lord or 
ladyship in any way, I shall be gratified to do it. ’’ 

“ Have you taken to Shad, as well as to the cottage?" pur- 
sued William. 


LADY ADELAIDP/S OATH. 


941 


Yes, my lord, I have. Not being ashamed to acknowl- 
edge in the faces of inemies that he’s mine,” was the assured 
response. 

“ The best thing that' could be done with Shad would be to 
send him to a reformatory; the next best place for him would 
be a school,” returned Lord Dane. “ I promised the boy I 
would do something for him; and he must be rescued from his 
present vagabond life, if he is to escape utter ruin. I am 
ready to place him at an industrial school, where he will be 
taught to earn his living, and where what good may be in him 
will be brought out. ” 

“ And it’s with thanks for your lordship’s intintions, but I 
don^t intind to do myself the pleasure of excepting of them,” 
spoke Tiffle, in a tone of resentment. “ Shad’s no more a 
vagabone than other folks, and he’ll stop and have his abode 
with me, and no power shall tear us apart.” 

Shad melted into tears and whined out a chorus, one eye 
turned up to Lord Dane, the other down at Tiffle. He’d do 
a’most anything his lordship wanted of him, but he couldn’t 
leave his dear mother, Mrs. Tiffle. 

“ Very well,” said Lord Dane to Tiffle. “ I am ready and 
willing to rescue him from the temptation to evil; if you re- 
fuse, and then allow Shad to run into evil, to break the law, 
I shall surely punish him. And, mark you, I shall have him 
watched. I shall suffer no more loose doings in Danesheld. 
You had better think it over, Tiffle; and remember that the 
boy has a soul to be saved. ” 

William turned and faced the crowd, standing bare-headed, 
his wife upon his arm. They were cheering themselves deaf. 
He bowed his acknowledgments, he smiled his thanks; to those 
immediately around he spoke them. It was a scene worth de- 
picting. The stately old Castle and its waving flag; the hun- 
dreds gathered before it in their homage and affection; and 
the flne young chieftain standing there, free and noble, his 
face lighted by the slanting beams of the sun. As they gazed 
on his earnest, thoughtful eyes, and his brow of intellect; on 
his serene features, and the unmistakable expression stamped 
on them— goodness — they felt that thenceforth Danesheld, in 
its lord, would possess a friend. Maria leaned on' him, her 
cheeks blushing, and her eyes wet. Perhaps there was scarce- 
ly a dry eye in the crowd, as the last cheers went up — ‘‘ Long 
life, peace, and blessings on Lord and Lady Dane I” 


THE END. 


ADTERTISEMENTS. 



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AUTHORS’ LIST 


Works by the author or “ Addie’s 
Husband.” 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or. Through 


Clouds to Sunshine 10 

504 My Poor Wife 10 

Works by the author of “ A Fatal 
Dower.” 

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372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded Wife 20 

829 The Actor’s Ward 20 

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588 Cherry 10 


Woman’s liOve-Story.” 

322 A Woman’s Love-Story 10 

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Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

17 The Wooing O't 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 10 

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339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. . . 10 

490 A Second Life 20 

564 At Bay 10 

794 Beaton’s Bargain 20 

797 Look Before You Leap 20 

805 The Freres. 1st half 20 

805 The Freres. 2d half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. 1st half 20 


806 Her Dearest Foe. 2d half 20 

814 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

900 By Woman’s Wit 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 

Australian Aunt 20 

Alisou’s Works. 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Far!”. .. 10 

278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built 10 

F. Aiistey’s Works, 

59 Vice Versa 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe 20 

503 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 

Romance 10 

819 A Fallen Idol 20 

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95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 

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S. Baring-Gould’s Works. 

787 Court Royal 20 

878 Little Tu’penny 10 

Basil’s Works. 

344 “ The Wearing of the Green ”. . 20 

517 A Coquette’s Conquest.* 20 

585 A Drawn Game 20 

Anne Beale’s Works. 

188 Idonea 20 

199 The Fisher Village 10 


2 


THE SEASIDE LIBRxiRY— Pocket Edition. 


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97 'All in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

140 Love Finds the Way, and Other 

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230 Dorothy f orster 20 

324 In Luck at Last 10 

541 Uncle Jack 10 

651 “ Self or Bearer ” 10 

^2 Children of Gibeon 20 

904 The Holy Rose 10 

906 The World Went Very Well 

Then 20 

980 To Call Her Mine 20 

M. Betham-Edwards’s Works. 

273 Love and Mirage ; or, The Wait- 
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579 The Flower of Doom, and Other 

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594 Doctor Jacob 20 

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1 Yolande 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
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78 Madcap Violet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Feathers 20 

125 The Monarch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 20 
265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

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627 White Heather 20 

898 Romeo and Juliet: A Tale of 

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902 Sabina Zembra 20 

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67 Lorna Doone. 2d half 20 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 

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615 Mary Anerley 20 

625 Erema ; or, My Father’s Sin ... 20 

629 Ci'ipps, the Carrier 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. First half... 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. Second half. 20 

631 Christowell. A Dartmoor Tale 20 

632 Clara Vaughan 20 

633 The Maid of Sker. First half. . 20 
633 The Maid of Sker. Second half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. First half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. Second half.. 20 
926 Springhaven SO 


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35 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

.56 Phantom Fortune 20 

74 Aurora Floyd 20 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 

153 The Golden Calf 20 

204 Vixen 20 

211 The Octoroon 10 

^34 Barbara ; or. Splendid Misery. . 20 

263 An Ishmaelite 20 

315 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 
mas, 1884. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddou 20 

434 Wyllard s Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or, Nobodj'^’s Daugh- 

• ter. Parti 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part II 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s paughter — 20 

489 Rupert Godwin 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Cloven Foot 20 

511 A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Darnel 10 

548 The Fatal Marriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 

er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey 10 

552 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”) 20 

557 To the Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel 20 

.561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

570 John Marchmont’s Legacy. ... 20 
618 The Mistletoe Bough, (jhrist- 

mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddou 20 

840 One Thing Needful; or. The Pen- 
alty of Fate 20 

881 Mohawks 20 

890 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 
mas, 1886. ’ Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 


943 Weavers and Weft; or, “ Love 

that Hath Us in His Net ” 20 

947 Publicans and Sinners; or, 

Lucius Da voren. First half.. 20 
947 Publicans and Sinners; or, 
Lucius Davoren. Second half 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBH All Y— Pocket Edition. 


3 


Works bs' C’hnrlotfe 31. Braeine, 
Aiitbor of “ Dora Thome.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Thorne 20 

54 A liroken Weddingr-Riug 20 

OS A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madoliu’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love ; or, Love's 

Victory 20 

76 Wife in Name Only-; or, A 

Broken Heart 20 

79 Wedded and Parted 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms.. 10 

190 Romance of a Black Weil 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 10 

237 Repented at Leisure. (Large 

type edition) 20 

967 Repented at Leisure 10 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter . 10 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 

ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

92;i At War With Herself. (Large 

t 3 pe edition) 20 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 

From Out the Gloom 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom, (Large 
type edition) 20 

291 Love’s Warfare 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 The Shadow of a Sin lO 

948 The Shadow of a Sin. (Large 

type edition) 20 

294 Hilda; or. The False Vow 10 

928 Hilda; or. The False Vow. 

(Large type edition) 20 

295 A Woman’s War... 10 

952 A Woman's War. (Large type 

edition) 20 

296 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly ; cr. Her Mai-riage 

Vow 10 

953 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her IMar- 

riage Vow. (Large type edi- 

tion) ; 

209 The Fatal Lilies, and A Lnde 

from the Sea 10 

300 A (4ilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net ^ 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 

322 A Woman’s Loye-Story 10 

323 A Willful Maid -0 

411 A Bitter Atonement 

433 My Sister Kate l*^ 


459 

951 

460 

465 

466 

467 

469 

470 

471 
476 

516 

576 

626 

741 


745 

792 

821 

853 

854 
922 
924 
927 
929 

931 

949 

958 

969 

973 

975 

978 

982 

985 

988 

990 

995 


15 

57 

944 


f 86 
101 
227 
645 
758 
765 

767 

768 

769 
862 
894 


A Woman’s Temptation. (Large 

type edition) 20 

A Woman’s Temptation 10 

Under a Shadow 20 

The Earl’s Atonement 20 

Between Two Loves 20 

A Struggle for a Ring 20 

Lad 3 ' Darner’s Secret; or, A 

Guiding Star 20 

Evelyn’s Folly 20 

Thrown on the World 20 

Between Two Sins; or. Married 

in Haste 10 

Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce 20 

Her Martyrdom 20 

A Fair Mystery 20 

The Heiress of Hilldrop; or. 
The Romance of a Young 

Girl 20 

For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 
gle for Love 20 

Set in Diamonds 20 

The World Between Them 20 

A Tr\ie Maerdalen 20 

A Woman’s Error 20 

Marjorie 20 

’Twixt Smile and Tear 20 

Sweet C 3 unbeline 20 

The Belle of Lynn; or. The 

Miller’s Daughter 20 

Lady Diana’s Pride 20 

Claribel’s Love Story ; or. Love’s 

Hidden Depths 20 

A Haunted Life ; or. Her Terri- 
ble Sin • 20 

The Mystery of Colde Fell; or, 

Nor Proven 20 

The Squire’s Darling 20 

A Dark Marriage Morn 20 

Her Second Love 20 

The Duke's Secret 20 

On Her Wedding Morn, and 
The Mystery of the Holly-Tree 20 
The Shattered Idol, and Letty 

Leigh 20 

The Earl’s Error, and Arnold’s ^ 

An Unnatural Bondage, and 
That Beautiful I.ady 20 

Charlotte Bronte’s Works. 

Jane Eyre 20 

Shirle3'’ • ^ 

The Professor '-0 

Rhoda Broughton’s Works. 

Belinda 20 

Second Thoughts 20 

Nancy 20 

Mrs. Smith of Longmains 10 

“Good-bye, Sweetheart!’’ 20 

Not Wisely, But Too Well ^ 

J 03/11- . 

Red as a Rose is She 20 

Cometh Up as a Flower 20 

Betty’s Visions ^ 

Doctor Cupid. . 20 


4 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket EoiTroifr, 


Mary E. Bryan’s Works. 

731 The Bayou Bride 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. 1st half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. 2d half 20 

* 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 “ Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan Water 20 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

646 The Master of the Mine 20 

892 That Winter Night; or, Love’s 

Victory 10 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s W'orks. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor 20 

E. Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the World to Me 10 

Ml’S. H. Lovett Cameron’s Works. 

595 A North Country Maid 20 

796 Tn a Grass Country 20 

891 Vera Nevill; or, Poor Wisdom’s 

Chance 20 

912 Pure Gold 20 

963 Worth Winning 20 

Rosa Nouchette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 

608 For Lilias 20 

930 Uncle Max 20 

932 Qiieenie’s Whim 20 

934 Wd'>ed and Married k 20 

936 Nellie’s Memories ; 20 

961 Wee Wifie 20 

Lewis Carroll’s Works. 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. Illustrated by John 

Tenniel 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 
and What Alice Found There. 
Illustrated by John Tenniel. . 20 

Wilkie Collins’s Works. ® 

52 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone 20 

167 Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot, and Other 

Stories 10 

233 “ I Say No ;” or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 


506 The Girl at the Gate 10^ 


591 The Queen of Hearts 20 

613 The Ghost’s Touch, and Percy 

and the Prophet 10 

623 My Lady’s Modev 10 

701 The Woman in White. 1st half 20 

701 The Woman in White. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. 1st half 20 

702 Man and Wife. 2d half 20 

764 The Evil Genius 20 

896 .The Guilty River 10 

946 The Dead Secret 20 

977 The Haunted Hotel 20 


Mabel Collins’s Works. 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter 20 

828 The Prettiest AVoman in Warsaw 20 


Hugh Conway’s Works. 

240 Called Back 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 

Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days 10 

302 The Blatchford Bequest 10 

502 Carriston’s Gift 10 

525 Paul A^argas, and Other Stories 10 

543 A FamiL’ Affair 20 

601 Slings and Arrows, and Other 

Stories 10 

711 A Cardinal Sin 20 

804 Living or Dead 20 

830 Bourd by a Spell 20 

J. Fenimore Cooper’s Works. 

60 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

63 The Spy 20 

309 The Pathfinder 20 

310 The Prairie 20 

318 The Pioneers ; or, The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

349 The Two Admirals 20 

359 The AA^aterrAVitch 20 

361 The Red Rover 20 

373 AA^ing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Chase 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“Homeward Bound”) 20 

380 AVyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll 20 

385 The Headsman; or. The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 20 

894 The Bravo 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of AVish-Ton-Wish. . . 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore 20 

414 Miles AVallingford. (Sequel to 

“Afloat and Ashore ”) 20 

415 The AVays of the Hour 

416 .Jack Tier; or. The Florida Reef ^ 

419 The Chai n bearer ; or,The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 


THE SEASIDE LTBRAEY—PockeI’ EomON. S 


J. Fenimore Cooper’s Works 

(continued'). 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or, The 

Voyaj^e to Catha}’^ 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or, The Bee- 

Hunter 20 

431 The Monikins 20 

Georgiana M. Craik’s Works. 

450 Godfrey Helstone 20 

600 Mrs. Hollyer ^ 

€ 

B. M. Croker’s Works. 

207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 

May Croiiiiiielin’s Works. 

452 In the West Conn trie 20 

619 Joy; or. The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford 20 

647 Goblin Gold 10 

Alphonse Daudet’s Works. 

534 Jack 20 

574 The Nabob: A Story of Parisian 

Life and Manners 20 

Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Coppwfield. Vol. 11 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rndge. 1st half 20 

91 Barnaby Budge. 2d half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half 20 

106 Bleak House. First half : 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. 1st half 20 

107 Dombey and Son. 2d half 20 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (1st half). 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. . . 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Cliuzzlewit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. Second half 20 

439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 


448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

Miidfog Papers, &c 20 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 
456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People 20 

676 A Child’s History of England. 20 

Sarah Doudiiey’s Works. 

338 The Family Difficulty 10 

679 Where Two Ways Meet 10 

F. Du Boisgohey’s Works. 

82 Sealed Lips 20 

104 The Coral Pin. 1st half i... ^ 

104 The Coral Pin. 9d half 20 

264 Pi6douche, a French Detective. 10 
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 20 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

Second half 20 

453 The Lottery Ticket 20 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband.. 20 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or. The 

Steel Gauntlets 20 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 20 

648 The Angel of the Bells ^ 

697 The Pretty Jailer. 1st half 20 

697 The Pretty Jailer. 2d half 20 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 1st 

half 20 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 2d 

half 20 

782 The Closed Door. 1st half 20 

782 The Closed Door. 2d half 20 

851 The Cry of Blood. 1st half 20 

851 The Cry of Blood. 2d half ^ 

918 The Red Band. 1st half 20 

918 The Red Band. 2d half 90 

742 Cash on Delivery. 20 

“The Duchess’s” Works. 

2 Molly Bawn 20 

6 Portia 20 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian 10 

16 Phyllis 20 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey. (Large type 

edition) 20 

950 Mrs. Geoffrey 10 

29 B(‘auty’s Daughters 10 

30 Faith and Unfaith 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering 10 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. .. 10 

123 Sweet is True Love 10 

129 Rossmoyne 10 

134 Tlie Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories 10 

1.36 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

Other Stories 10 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites.... 10 
171 Fortune’s Wheel, and Other 

Stories 10 

284 Doris 10 

312 A Week’s Amusement; or, A 

Week in Killarney 10 


6 


THE SEASIDE LIBEAEY— Pocket Edition. 


“ The Duchess’s” Works 

(continuedV 


342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 10 

390 Mildred Trevanion 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories 10 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart 20 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
bara 10 

517 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories 10 

541 “As It Fell Upon a Day.’’ 10 

738 Lady Branksmere 20 

771 A Mental Struggle 20 

785 The Haunted Chamber 10 


875 Lady Valworth’s Diamonds — 20 

Alexander Dumas’s Works. 

55 The Three Guardsmen 20 

75 Twenty Years After 20 

259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
Sequel to “ The Count of 

Monte-Cristo ” 10 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part 1 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or. The Mar- 
riage Verdict 20 

George Ebers’s Works. 

474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 20 
983 Uarda 20 

Maria Edgeworth’s Works. 

708. Ormond 20 

788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 20 

Mrs. Annie Ecft^'ards’s Works. 

644 A Girton Girl 20 

8:i4 A Ballroom Repentance 20 

835 Vivian the Beauty 20 

836 A Point of Honor 20 

837 A Vagabond Heroine 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? 20 

839 Leah: A Woman of Fashion... 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 10 

842 A Blue-Stockfug 10 

843 Archie Lovell 20 

844 Susan Fielding 20 

S45 Philip Earnscliffe; or. The Mor- 
als of May Fair 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. First half. 20 
846 Steven Lawrence. Second half 20 
850 A Playwright’s Daughter 10 

George Eliot’s Works* 

3 The Mill on the Floss 

81 Middlemarch. 1st half 20 

31 Middlemarch. 2d half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 1st half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 2d half 20 

36 Adam Bede 20 

42 Romola 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical 20 


707 Silas Marner: The Weaver of 
Raveloe 10 

728 Janet’s Repentance 10 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such 10 

B. li. Farjeon’s Works. 

179 Little Make-Believe 10 

573 Love's Harvest 20 

607 Self-Doomed 10 

616 The Sacred Nugget 20 

657 Christmas Angel 10 

907 The Bright Star of Life 20 

909 The Nine of Hearts 20 

.G. Mauville #teuii’s Works, 

193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

587 The Parson o’ Dumford 20 

609 The Dark House 10 

Octave Feiiillet’s Works. 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

Man 10 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 
Comtesse ’’ 10 

Ml'S. Forrester’^ Works. 

80 June 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales 10 

715 I Have Lived and Loved 20 

721 Dolores 20 

724 My Lord and My Lady 20 

726 My Hero r 20 

727 Fair Women 20 

729 Mignon 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades 20 

734 ATva 20 

736 Roy and Viola 20 

740 Rhona 20 

744 Diana Carew; or. For a Wom- 

. all’s Sake 20 

883 Once Again i... ^ 20 

Jessie FothergiIJ’s Works. 

314 Peril 20 

572 Healey 20 

935 Borderland 20 

R, E. Fraucilloii’s Works. 

135 A Great Heiress: A Fortune 

in Seven Checks 10 

319 Face to Face: A Fact in Seven 

Fables 10 

-360 Ropes of Sandv 20 

656 The Golden Flood. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior. . 10 
911 Golden Bells 20 

Emile Gaboriau’s Works. 

7 File No. 113 20 

12 Other People’s Money 20 

20 Within an Inch of His Life..., 20 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol I ^ 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY — Pocket Edition. 


7 


Emile Gaboriaii’s Works 


(CONTINUED). 

83 The Clique of Gold 20 

38 The Widow Lerouge ^ 

43 The Mystery of Orcival ^ 

144 Promises of Marriage 10 

979 The Count’s Secret. Part I . . . 20 
979 The Count's Secret. Part II.. ^ 
1002 Marriage at a Venture 20 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 10 

317 By Mead and Stream 20 

James Grant’s Works. 

56.6 The Royal Highlanders ; or, 

The Black Watch in Egypt... 20 
781 The Secret Dispatch ...... 10 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 20 

555 Cara Roma 20 

Arthur Griflitlis’s Works. 

614 No. 99 10 

680 Fast and Loose 20 

H. Rider Haggard’s Works. 
43ti The Witch’s Head . 20 

753 King Solomon’s Mines 20 

910 She: A History of Adventure.. 20 

941 Jess 20 

959 Dawn 20 

989 Allan Quatermiam ^ 

Thomas Hardy’s Works. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

a Milkmaid 10 

530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 20 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 20 

791 The Mayor of Casterbridge 20 

945 The Trumpet-Major 20 

957 The Woodlanders 20 

John 11. Harwood's Works. 

143 One False, Both Fair '20 

358 Within the Clasp 20 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Works. 

65 Back to the Old Home 10 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money 20 

196 Hidden Perils 20 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 20 

281 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

678 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished 20 

849 A Wicked Girl 20 

987 Brenda Yorke 20 

Mrs. Cashel-IIoey’s Works, 

313 The Lover’s Creed 20 

802 A Stern Chase 20 

Tighe Hopkins’s Works. 

609 Nell Haffenden 20 

714 ’Tvfixt Love and Duty 20 


Works by the Author of “ Judith 
Wynne.” 

332 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace 20 

William 11. G. Kingston’s Works. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 

133 Peter the Whaler 10 

761 Will Weatherhelm 20 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 
Merry 20 

Vernon Lee’s Works. 

399 Miss Brown 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 
Idyl. By Vernon Lee. The 
Prince of the 100 Soups. Edit- 
ed by Vernon Lee 20 

Charles Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon, First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “ Ours.” First 

half 20 

243 Tom Burke of ” Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

Mary Linskill’s Works. 

473 A Lost Son 20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Northern Sea. 20 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton’s Works. 

122 1(^16 Stewart 20 

817 eulbbed in the Dark 10 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 

Miser 20 

Hamiiel Lover’s Works. 

663 Handy Andy 20 

664 llc^y O’More 20 

Sir E. Bulwer Lytton’S Works. 

40 The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

83 A Strange Story 20 

90 Ernest Maltravers 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half fPi 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half 20 

'162 Eugene Aram 20 

164 Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada 10 
650 Alice ; or, The Mysteries. (A. Se- 
quel to “ Ernest Maltravers ”) 20 
720 Paul Clifford 20 

George Macdonald’s Works. 

282 Donal Grant 20 

325 The Portent 10 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

722 What’s Mine’s Mine 20 

Katharine S. Macquoid’s Works. 

479 Louisa 20 

914 Joan Wentworth — 20 


8 THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Editioit. 


E. Marlitt’s Works. 

652 The Lady with the Rubies 20 

858 Old Ma’m’selle's Secret 20 

972 Gold Elsie 20 

999 The Second Wife 20 

Florence Marryat’s Works. 

159 Captain Norton’s Diar}^ and 

A Moment of Madness 10 

183 Old Contrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 Tlie Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories... 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses. . . 10 
444 The Heart of Jane Warner.. .. 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

689 The Heir Presumptive 20 

825 The Master Passion. 20 

860 Her Lord and Master 20 

861 My Sister the Actress 20 

863 “ My Own Child.” 20 

864 “ No Intentions.” 20 

865 Written in Fire 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband; 

or. Spiders of Society 20 

867 The Girls of Feversham 20 

868 Petronel 20 

869 The Poison of Asps 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning 10 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

873 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

877 Facing the Footlights 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. 1st half 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. 2d half 20 

895 A Star and a Heart 10 

897 Ange 20 

899 A Little Stepson 10 

901 A Lucky Disappointment 10 

903 Phyllida 20 

905 The Fair-Haired Alda 20 

939 W’hy Not? 20 

993 Fighting the Air 20 

998 Open Sesame 20 

1004 Mad Dumaresq 20 


Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller’s 
Works. 

267 Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 

Conspiracy 20 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 Tiancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jean Middlemas’s Works* 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret 20 

539 Silvermead 20 

Alan Muir’s Works. 

172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

Miss Mulock’s Works* 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy, and In a House- 

Boat 10 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story 20 

David Christie Murray’s Works. 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “ The Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

661 Rainbow Gold 20 

674 First Person Singular 20 

691 Valentine Strange 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce 20 

698 A Life’s Atonement 20 

7.37 Aunt Rachel 10 

826 Cynic Fortune 20 

898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and Julia 
and Her Romeo.... 20 


Works by the author of “ My 
Ducats aud My Daughter.” 

376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 10 
596 My Ducats and My Daughter. .. 20 


Captain Marry at’s Works. 

88 The Privateersman 20 

272 The Little Savage 10 

991 Mr. Midshipman Easy 20 

Helen B. Mathers’ s Works. 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

438 Found Out 10 

535 Murder or Manslaughter? 10 

673 Story of a Sin 20 

'513 “ Cherry Ripe ” 20 

'795 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

798 The Fashion of this World 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves 20 

Justin McCarthy’s Works. 

121 Maid of Athens 20 

602 Camiola ^ 

685 England Under Gladstone. 
1880—1885 20 


747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 
by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. . 10 
779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. . . 10 


' W. E. Norris’s Works. 

184 Thirlby Hall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

355 That Terrible Man 10 

500 Adrian Vidal 20 

824 Her Own Doing 10 

848 My Friend Jim 10 

871 A Bachelor’s Blunder 20 

Laurence Oliphant’s Works. 

47 Altiora Peto 20 

537 Piccadilly 10 

Mrs. Oliphant’s Works. 

45 A Little Pilgrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

205 The Minister’s Wife ^ 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie 20 


THE SEASIDE LTBRAEY — Pi'JOKKT Edition. 


9 


Mrs, Oliphniit’H Works 

(continued). 

345 ]\Iadain 20 

351 The Plouse on the Moor " 20 

357 John 20 

370 Lucy Crofton ” 10 

371 Marjraret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation. . .. 20 
402 Lilliesleaf ; or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside 20 

410 Old Lad}' Mary 10 

527 The Days of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

568 The Perpetual Curate 20 

569 Harry Muir 20 

603 Agnes. 1st half 20 

603 Agnes. 2d half 20 

604 Innocent. 1st half 20 

604 Innocent. 2d half 20 

605 Ombra 20 

645 OliTer’s Bride 10 

655 The Open Door,and The Portrait 10 

687 A Country Gentleman 20 

703 A House Divided Against Itself 20 
710 The Greatest Heiress in England 20 

827 Effie Ogilvie 20 

&S0 The Son of His Father 20 

902 A Poor Gentleman 20 

“ Ouida’s ” Works. 

4 Under Two Flags 20 

9 AVanda, Countess von Szalras. ^ 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon, and Other Sketches 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess Napraxine ^ 

238 Pascarel ^ 

239 Signa ^ 

43^1 A Rainy June 10 

639 Othmar 20 

671 Don Gesualdo 10 

672 In Maremma. First half 20 

672 In Maremma. Second half .. . 20 

874 A House Party 10 

974 Strathmore; or. Wrought by 

His Own Hand. First half .. 20 
974 Strathmore; or, Wrought by 

His Own Hand. Second half 20 
981 Granville de Vigne; or. Held in 

Bondage. First half 20 

981 Granville de Vigne; or. Held in 

Bondage. Second half 20 

996 Idalia. First half 20 


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592 A Strange Voyage. ^ 

682 It^the Middle Watch. Sea 

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363 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle* Dangerous 10 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

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401 Waverley 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth ; or, St. 

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670 The Rose and the Ring. Illus- 
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637 What’s His Offence? 20 

780 Rare Pale Margaret 20 

784 The Two Miss Flemings 20 

831 Pomegranate Seed 20 

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141 She Loved Him! 10 

142 Jenifer 20 

565 No Medium 10 

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389 Ichabod. A Portrait 10 

960 Elizabeth’s Fortune 20 

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93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
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200 An Old Man’s Love 10 

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622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. . . 10 
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700 Ralph the Heir. 1st half 20 

700 Ralph the Heir. 2d half ^ 

775 The Three Clerks 20 

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298 Mitchelhurst Place 10 

586 “ For Percival 20 

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87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 


100 20,0W Leagues Under the Seas. 20 
368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia- 
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395 The Archipelago on Fire 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part 1 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part 11 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 
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JuleM Verne’s Works 

(continued). 

650 The Waif of the “ Cynthia ”... 20 
751 Great Voyages and (Jreat Navi- 
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751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Second half 20 

833 Ticket No. “9672.” First half. 10 
ms Ticket No. “9672.” Second half 10 
976 Robur the Conqueror; or, A 
Trip Round the World in a 


Flying Machine 20 

1j. B. Walford’s Work*. 

241 The Baby’s Grandmother 10 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 20 

258 Cousins 20 

658 The History of a Week 10 

F. Warden’s Works. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 10 

248 The House on the Marsh 10 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand,,.. 20 

482 A Vagrant Wife 20 

5.56 A Prince of Darkness 20 

820 Doris's Fortune 10 

William Ware’s Works. 

709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal- 

mj'ra. 1st half 20 

709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal- 
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760 Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third 

Century 20 

E. Werner’s Works. 

327 Raymond’s Atonement 20 

540 At a High Price 20 

fJ.'J. Wliyte-M^lville’s Works. 

409 Roy’s Wife 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

the Bar 20 

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John Strange Winter’s Works. 

492 Booties’ Baby ; or, Mignon. Il- 
lustrated 10 

6(X) Houp-La. Illustrated 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

Black Horse) Dragoons 10 


688 A Man of Honor. Illustrated.. 10 
746 Cavalry Life; or, Sketches and 

Stories in Barracks and Out. . 20 
813 Army Society. Life in a Gar- 
rison Town 10 

818 Pluck 10 

876 Mignon’s Secret 10 

966 A Siege' Baby and Childhood’s 

Memories 20 

971 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 

Blankhamptou 20 


Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 20 

255 The Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

508 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen \Vhitney’s5Wedding,|and 

Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, 

and Other Tales 10 

610 The Story of Dorothy Grape, 

and Other Tales 10 

^001 Lady Adelaide’s Oath 20 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer's Prentices.. ;.. 4 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish ; or, Domi- 
neering ’. 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest. . 20 

666 My Young Alcides: A Faded 

Photograph 20 

730 The Caged Lion 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 

First half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or. The 
White and black Ribaumont. 

Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 

Second half 20 

887 A Modern Telemachus 20 

Misccllnueoiis. 

53 The Story of Ida. Francesca.. 10 
61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10 
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill , 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G. 

Wight wick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. Thomas Hughes 20 

127 Adrian Bright. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake,” Mrs. 
Herbert Martin <..29 


n THE SEASIDE LIBRARA—Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 


158 The Starling. Norman Mac- 
leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tytler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

170 Great I'reason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. First half 20 

170 Great Treason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. Second half 20 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

198 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 
O’Rell 10 


218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James. . 20 

219 Lady Clare : or, The Master of 

the Forges. Georges Ohnet 10 
242 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer.. 10 
266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 
den 20 

285 The Gambler’s Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 

311 Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann-Chat- 
rian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or, Between Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of. Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

835 The White Witch 20 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

352 At Any Cost, Edward Garrett. 10 
354 The Lottery of Life, A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 


355 The Princess Dagomar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Christy ; or. The Fort- 
unes of a Minstrel. Tony 


Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter; or. 
The Man of Death. Capt. L, 

C, Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The Dead Man’s Secret. Dr. 
Jupiter Paeon 20 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

383 Introduced to Society. Hamil- 

ton Aid6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 10 

407 Tylney Hall, Thomas Hood. ., 20 
426 Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor 20 


430 A Bitter Reckoning, Author 
of “By Crooked Paths ”... . 10 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 

436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L, Shaw. 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany. . . 

457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat, Charles Maiwin 

458 A Week of Passion ; or. The 

Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 
author of “ A Golden Bar ”. . . 
485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 
]yEd>l6tr 

501 Mr. Butler’s ’ward.’* f'. Mabel 
Robinson 

504 Curly : An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 

505 The Society of London. Count 

Paul Vasili 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord ” 

512 The Waters of Hercules 

518 The Hidden Sin 

519 James Gordon’s Wife 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 


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Miscellaneous— Continued, 

533 Hazel Kirke. Marie Walsh 

536 Dissolving Views. Mrs. Andrew 
Lang 

545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ”. . . 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 

571 Paul Crew’s Story. Alice Co- 
rny ns Carr 

575 The Finger of Fate. Captoin 
Mayne Reid 

581 The Betrothed. (I Promessi 

Sposi.) Allessaiidro Manzoni 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs. 

J. H. Needell 

583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith . . 

584 Mixed Motives 

599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

Temple 

C12 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Dr. Edith Romney ” 

C24 Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu- 

houn 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

of “ My Lady’s Folly ” 

634 The Unforeseen. Alice O’Han- 
lon 

341 The Rabbi’s Spell. Stuart C. 

Cumberland 

643 The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey 
Crayon, Gent. Washington 

Irving 

654 Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

Mrs. Molesworth 

662 The Mystery of Allan Grale. 
Isabella Fyvie Mayo 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 

669 The Philosophy of Whist. 

William Pole 

675 Mrs. Dymond. Miss Thackeray 
681 A Singer’s Story. May Laflfan. 

683 The Bachelor Vicar of New- 

forth. Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 

684 Last Days at Apswich 

692 The Mikado, and Other Comic 

Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 

705 The Woman I Loved, and the 

Woman Who Loved Me. Isa 
Blagden 

706 A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad- 

shaw 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. Grant 
Allen 

718 Unfairly Won. Mrs. Power 

O’Donoghue 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

Lord Byron 

723 Mauleverer’s Millions. T. We- 

myss Reid 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

Silvio Peliico 

730 The Autobiography of Benja- 
min Franklin 

735 Until the Day Breaks. Emily 
Spender 


738 In the Golden Days. Edna 

Lyall 20 

748 Hurrish: A Study. By the 

Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 


Juliana Horatia Ewing 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. Bjy a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw 20 

756 The Strange Adventures of Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Plain English. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sala 20 

757 Love’s Martyr. Laurence Alma 

Tadema 10 

759 In Shallow Waters. Annie Ar- 

mitt 20 

766 No. XIII; or. The Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Mar- 
shall 10 

770 The Castle of Otranto. Hor- 
ace Walpole 10 

773 The Mark of Cain. Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 The Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park 10 


776 Pdre Goriot. Honor6 De Balzac 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of 

of Sir John Maundeville, Kt. . 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 

thor of “My Marriage ” 20 

786 Ethel Mi Idraay’s Follies. By au- 
thor of “ Petite’s Romance ”. 20 
793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 

Beaconsfield. First half 20 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half. . . 20 
801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. Oli- 
ver Goldsmith 10 

803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 


809 Witness My Hand. By author 

of “ Lady Gwendolen’s Tryst ” 10 

810 The Secret of Her Life. Ed- 

ward Jenkins 20 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By 
George R. Sims, author of 

“’Ostler Joe” 20 

822 A Passion Flower. A Novel — 20 

8.52 Under Five Lakes. M. Quad.. 20 
879 The Touchstone of Peril. A 
Novel of Anglo-Indian Life, 
With Scenes During the Mu- 
tiny. R. E. Forrest 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Parti 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 
Part II 20 


20 

10 

10 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

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20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

10 

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14 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 


885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Partin 20 

908 A Willful Young Woman 20 

913 The Silent Shore. John 

Bloundelle-Burton 20 

915 That Other Person. Mrs. Al- 
fred Hunt 20 

917 The Case of Reuben Malachi, 

H. Sutherland Edwards 10 

919 Locksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 

ter, etc. By Alfred, Lord Ten- 
nyson, P.L., D.C L 10 

920 A Child of the Revolution. By 

the author of “ Mademoiselle 
Mori ” 20 

921 The Late Miss Hollingford. 

Rosa Mulholland 10 

933 A Hidden Terror. Mary Albert 20 

937 Cashel Byron’s Profession. By 

George Bernard Shaw 20 

938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell 20 

954 A Girl’s Heart. By the author 

of “ Nobody’s Darling ” 20 


956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Whyte W 

964 A Struggle for the Right; or, 

Tracing the Truth 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray. . 20 

966 He, by the author of King 

Solomon’s Wives”; and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 
Memories, by J. S. Winter. . . 20 
968 Blossom and Fruit; or, Mad- 
ame’sWard. By the author 


of “Wedded Hands” 20 

970 King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 
Phantom Mines. By Hyder 

Ragged. (Illustrated) 20 

984 Her Own Sister. By E. S. Will- 
iamson 20 

886 The Great Hesper. By Frank 

Barrett 20 

992 Marrying and Giving in Mar- 
riage. By Mrs. Molesworth. 20 
994 A Penniless Orphan. By W. 
Heimburg. 20 


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669 Pole on Whist 20 

432 THE WITCH’S HEAD. By 
H. Rider Haprprard 20 

969 The Mystery of Colde Fell ; or, 

Not Proven. By Charlotte 51. 
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Thorne” 20 

970 King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 

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971 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 

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Winter 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 

973 The Squire’s Darling. By Char- 

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974 Strathmore; or, Wrought by 

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His Own Hand. By ” Ouida.” 
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975 A Dark 5Iarriage 5Iorn. By 

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976 Robur the Conqueror; or, A 

Trip Round the World in a 
Flying 5Iachine. Jules Verne 20 

977 The Haunted Hotel. By Wilkie 

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978 Her Second Love. By Char- 

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979 The Count’s Secret. B}”- Emile 

Gaboriau. Parti 20 

979 The Count’s Secret. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Part II 20 

980 To Call Her 5Iine. By Walter 

Besant 20 

981 Gi anville de Vigiie; or. Held in 

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half 20 

981 Granville de Vigne; or. Held in 

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half '. 20 

982 The Duke’s Secret. By Char- 

lotte 51. Braeme, author of 
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983 Uarda. A Romance of Ancient 

Egypt. By George Ebers 20 

984 Her 'Own Sister. By E. S. 

Williamson 20 


985 On Her Wedding 5Toru, and 

The 5Iystery of the Holly- 
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author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . . 20 

986 The Great Hesper. By Frank 

Barrett 20 


987 Brenda Yorke, and Upon the 

Waters. By Mary Cecil Hay. 20 

988 The Shattered Idol, and Letty 

Leigh. Charlotte 51. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 

989 Allan Quatermain. By H. Rider 


Haggard 20 

990 The Earl’s Error, and Arnold’s 

Promise. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne” 20 

991 5Ir. 5Iidshipman Easy. By Cap- 

tain 5Iarryat 20 

992 5Iarrying and Giving in 5Iar- 

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993 Fighting the Air. By Florence 

Marry at 20 

994 A Penniless Orphan. By W. 

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995 An Unnatural Bondage, and 

That Beautiful Lady. Char- 
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996 Idalia. By “ Ouida.” 1st half, 20 

996 Idalia. By “Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

997 Forging the Fetters, and The 

Australian Aunt. By Mrs. 
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998 Open, Sesame! By Florence 

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999 The Second Wife. E. 51arlitt. 20 
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1000 Puck. By “Ouida.” 2d half. 20 

1001 Lady Adelaide’s Oath; or. The 

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1(X)2 5Tarriage at a Venture. By 

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1004 5Iad Dnmare.sq. By Florence 

Marry at 20 

1005 99 Dark Street. F.W. Robinson 20 

1006 His Wife’s Judgment. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

1007 5Iiss Gascoigne. By 5Irs. J. 

H. Riddell 20 

1008 A Thorn in Her Heart. Char- 

lotte 51. Braeme, author of 
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1009 In an Evil Hour, and Other 

Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 20 

1010 Golden Gates. By Charlotte 

51. Braeme, author of “ Dora 


Thorne ” 20 

1011 Texar’s Vengeance; or. North 

Versus South. Jules Verne. 
Part 1 20 

1012 A Namele.ss Sin. By Charlotte 

51. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
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dross 

HEOItGE MUNKO, Muuro’s Piiblishiiig House, 

P. Q. Box 3751. U tb Vandewaier Street, N, Y. 



KacMolgende Werke sind in der ,,Deutsclien Library'^ crschienen; 


1 Der Kaiser von Prof. G. Ebers 20 

2 Die Somosierra von R. Wald- 

rniiller 10 

8 Das Geheimniss der alten Mara- 
sell. Roman von E. Marlitt. 10 

4 Quisisana von Fr. Spielhagen 10 

5 Gartenlauben - Bliithen von E. 


Werner 20 

6 Die Hand der Nemesis von E. 

A. Konig 20 

T Amtmann’s Magd v. E, Marlitt -20 

8 Vineta von E. Werner 20 

9 Auf der Riimmiugsburg von M. 

Widdern 10 

10 Das Haus Hillel von Max Ring 20 

11 Gliickauf ! von E. Werner 10 

12 Goldelse von E. Marlitt 20 

13 Vater und Sohn von B’, Levi-ald 10 

14 Die Wiirger von Paris von C. 

Vacauo 20 

15 Der Diamantschleifer von Ro- 

senthal-Bonin 10 

16 Ingo und Ingraban von Gustav 

Freytag 20 

17 Eine Frage von Georg Ebers.. 10 

18 Im Paradiese von Paul Heyse 20 

19 In beiden Hemispharen von 

Sutro 10 

20 Gelebt undgelitten von H. Wa- 

cbenbusen 20 

21 Die Eichhofs von M. von Rei- 

chenbach 10 

22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

Erste Halfte 20 

22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

23 Barfiissele von Berthold Auer- . 

bach 10 

24 Das Nest der Zaunkonige von 

G. Frey tag 20 

25 Friihliugsboten von E. Weraer 10 

26 Zelle No. 7 von Pierre Zacone 20 

27 Die junge Frau v. H. Wachen- 

huseu 20 

28 Buchenheim von Th. v. Varn- 

biiler 10 

29 Auf der Balm des Verbrechens 

V. Ewald A. Konig 20 

30 Brigitta von Berth. Auerbach.. 10 

31 Im Scliilliugshof v. E. Marlitt 20 

32 Gesprengte Fesseln v. E. Wer- [ 

ner 10 

88 Der Heiduck von Hans Wa- 
chenhusen 20 

84 Die Sturmhexe von Grfifin M. 

Keyserling 10 

85 Das kind Bajazzo’s von E. A. 

Konig 20 

36 Die Bruder vom deutschen 

Hause von Gustav Frevtag. . 20 
87 Der Wilddieb v. F. Gerstiicker 10 

86 Die Verlobte von Rob. Wald- 

miiller 20 


39 Der Doppelganger von L. 

Schiicking 16 

40 Die -weisse Frau von Greifen- 

stein von E. Fels 20 

41 Hans und Grete von Fr. Spiel- 

hagen 10 

42 Mein Onkel Don J nan von H. 

Hopl'en 20 

43 Markus Konig v. Gustav Frey- 

tag 20 

44 Die schonen Amerikauerinnen 

von Fr. Spielhagen 10 

45 Das grosse Loos v. A. Konig.. 20 

46 Zur Ehre Gottes von Sacher 

und Ultimo v. T. Spielhagen 10 

47 Die Geschwister von Gustav 


Freytag 20 

48 Bischof und Konig von Mariam 

Tenger und Der Piratenko- 
nig von M. Jokai 10 

49 Reichsgrafin Gisela v. Marlitt 20 

50 BewegteZeitenv.Leon Alexan- 

drowitsch 10 

51 Um Ehre und Leben von E. A. 

Konig 20 

52 Aus einer kleiuen Stadt v. Gu- 

stav Frey tag 20 

53 Hildegard von Ernst v.Waldow 10 

54 Dame Orange von Hans Wa- 

chenhusen 20 

55 Johauuisnacht von M. Schmidt 10 

56 Angela von Fr. Spielhagen... 20 

57 Falsche Wege von J. v. Brun- 

Barnow 10 

58 Versunkene Welten von Wilh. 

.Tensen 20 

59 Die Wohnungssucher von A. 

von Winterfeld 10 

60 Eine Million von E. A, Konig 20 

61 Das Skelet von F. Spielhag^en 

und Das Frolenhaus von Gu- 
stav zu Putlitz 10 

62 Soil und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Erste Halfte 20 

62 Soil und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

63 Schloss Griinwald von Char- 

lotte Fielt 10 

64 Zwei Kreuzherren von Lucian 

Herbert 20 

65 Die Erlebnisse einer Schutzlo- 

sen V. Kath. Sutro-Schucking 10 

66 Das Haideprinzesscheu von E. 

M.arlitt 20 

67 Die Ceyer-Wally von "V^ulh. von 

Hillern 10 

68 Idealisten von A. Reinow .... 20 

69 Am Altar von E. Werner 10 

70 Der Konig der Luft von A. v. 

Winterfeld 20 

71 Moschko von Parma v. Karl E. 

Franzos 10 


DIE DEUTSCHE LIBRARY. 


72 Schuld und Siihne von Ewald 

A. Konig 

73 In Reiir und Qlied v. F, Spiel- 

hageu. Erste Halfte 

73 In Reih’ und Glied v. F. Spiel- 

hagen. Zweite HSlfte 

74 Geheimnisse einer kleiuen 

Stadt von A, von Winterfeld 

75 Das Landbaus am Rhein von 

B. Auerbach. Erste IlSlfte.. 
75 Das Landbaus am Rhein von 

B. Auerbach. Zweite Halfte 
7G Clara Vere von Friedrich Spiel- 
hageu 

77 Die Frau Burgerraeisterin von 

G. Ebers 

78 Aus eigener Kraft von Wilh. 

V. Hillern 

79 Eiu Kampf urn’s Recht von K. 

Franzos 

80 Prinzessin Schnee von Marie 

Widdern 

81 Die zweite Frau von E. Marlitt 
8:2 Benvenuto von Fanny Lewald 
8;3 Pessimisten von F. von Stengel 

84 Die Hofdame der Erzherzogin 

von F. von Witzleben-Weu- 
delstein 

85 Ein Vierteljahrhundert von B. 

Young 

86 ThiiringerErz^lungen von E. 

Marlitt 

87 Der Erbe von Mortella von A. 

Dom 

88 Vom arnien egyptischen Mann 

V. Hans Wach'enhusen 

89 Der goldeue Schatz aus dera 

dreissigjahrigen Krieg v. E. 
A. Kdnig 

90 Das Fraulein von St. Ama- 

ranthe von R. von Gottschall 

91 Der Fiirst von Montenegro v. 

A. Winterfeld 

92 Um ein Herz von E. Falk 

93 Uarda von Georg Ebers 

94 In der zwolften Stunde von 

Fried. Spielhagen und Ebbe 
und Fluth von M. Widdern... 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen. Erste HH,lfte. . 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen. Zweite Halfte.. 

96 Deutsch und Slavisch v. Lucian 

Herbert 

97 Im Hause des Conimerzien- 

Raths von Marlitt 

98 Helene von H. Wachenhusen 

und Die Prinzessin von Por- 
tugal V. A. Meissner 

99 Aspasia von Robert Hammer- 

ling 

100 Ekkehard v. Victor v. Schefifel 

101 Ein Kampf nm Rom v. F.Dahn. 

Erste HSlfte 

101 Ein Kampf um Rom v.F.Dahn. 

Zweite HSlfte 

J02 Spinoza von Berth. Auerbach. 
103 Von der Erde zum Mond von 
J. Verne 


104 Der Todesgruss der Legionen 

von G. Samarow 29 

105 Reise um den Mond von Julius 

Verne 10 

106 Fiiist und Musiker von Max 

Ring 20 

107 Nena Sahib v. J. Retcliffe. Er- 

ster Band 20 

107 Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe. 

Zwei ter Band 20 

107 Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe. 

DritterBand 20 

108 Reise nach dem Mittelpnnkte 

der Erde von Julius Verne 10 

109 Die silberne Hochzeit von S. 

Kohn 10 

110 Das Spukehaus von A. v. Wiu- 

terfeld 20 

111 Die Erben des Wahnsiuus von 

T. Marx 10 

112 Der IJlan von Job. van Dewall 10 

113. Um hohen Preis v. E. Werner 20 
114 Schwarzwtilder Dorfgeschich- 

ten von B. Auerbach. Erste 
Halfte 20 

114 Schwarzwalder Dorfgeschich- 

ten V. B. Auerbach. Zweite 
Halfte 20 

115 Reise um die Erde von Julius 

Verne 10 

116 Casai's Ende von S. J. R. 

(Schluss von 104) 20 

117 Auf Capri von Carl Detlef 10 

118 Severa von E. Hartner 20 

119 Ein Arzt der Seele von Wilh. 

V. Hillern 20 

120 Die Livergnas von Hermann 

Willfried 10 

121 Zwanzigtausend Meilen un- 

term Meer von J. Verne 20 

122 Mutter und Sohn von August 

Godin 10 

123 Das Hans des Fabrikanten v. 

Samarow 20 

124 Bruderpflicht und Liebe von 

Schiicking 10 


125 Die Rdmerfahrt der Epigonen 

V. Q. Samarow. Erste Halfte 20 

125 Die Romerfahrt der Epigonen 

V. G. Samarow. ZweiteHalfte 20 

126 Porkeles und Porkelessa von 


J Scherr 10 

127 Ein Friedensstorer von Victor 

Bliithgen und Der heimliche 
Gast von R. Byr 20 

128 Schone Frauen v. R. Edmund 

Hahn 10 

129 Bakchen und Thyrsostrager 

von A. Niemann 20 

130 Getrenut. Roman von E.Polko 10 

131 Alte Ketten. Roman von L. 

Schiicking 29 

13S Ueber die Wolken v. Wilhelm 

Jensen 10 

133 Das Gold des Orion von H. 

Rosenthal-Bonin 10 

134 XJm den Halbmond von Sama- 

row. Erste Halfte 29 


20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 


DIE DEUTSCUE LlBRAnT. 


134 Um den Halbmond von Sama- 

row. Zweite Halfte 20 

135 Troubadour - Novellen von P. 

lleyse 10 

136 Der Schweden-Schatz von H. 

Wachenhusen 20 

137 Die Bettlerin vom Pont des 

Arts uud Das Bild des Kaisers 
von Wilh. Hauff 10 

138 Modelle. Plist. Roman von A. v. 

Winterfeld 20 

139 Der Krieg um die Ilaube von 

Stefanie Keyser 10 

140 Numa Roumestan v. Alphonse 

Daudet 20 


141 Spatsommer. Novelle von (J. 

von Sydow und Eugelid, No- 
velle V. Balduin Jlollhausen 10 

142 Bartolomaus von Brusehaver 

u. Musma Cussalin. Novellen 
von L. Ziemssien 10 

143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko- 

miscber Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Erste Halfte 20 

143 Ein gemeuchel er Dichtei*. Ko- 

niischer Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Zweite Halfte. . 20 

144 Ein Wort. Neuer Roman von 


G. Ebers 20 

145 Novellen von Paul Heyse 10 

146 Adam Homo in Versen v. Pa- 

ludan-Miiller 20 

147 II ir einziger Bi nder von W. 

Heimburg, 10 

148 Ophelia. Roman von H. von 

Lankenau 20 

149 Nemesis v. Helene v. Hlilsen 10 

150 Felicitas. Histor. Roman von 

F. Dalm 10 

151 Die Claudier. Roman v. Ernst 

Eckstein 20 

152 Eine Verlorene von Leopold 

Kompert 10 

153 Luginsland. Roman von Otto 

Roquette 20 

154 Im Banne der Musen von W, 

Heimburg 10 

155 Die Schwester v. L. Schiicking 10 

156 Die Colonie von Friedrich Ger- 

stScker 20 

157 Deutsche Liebe. Roman v. M. 

l\Iuller 10 

158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels, 

Erste HSlfte 20 

158 Die Rose von Deliii von Fels. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

159 Debora. Roman von W. Muller 10 


160 Eine Mutter v. Friedrich Ger- 

stacker 20 

161 Friedliofsblume von W. von 

Hillern 10 

162 Nach der ersten Liebe von K. 

Frenzel 20 

163 Gebannt u. erlost v. E. Werner 20 

164 Uhlenhans. Roman von h ried. 

Spielhagen 20 

165 Klytia. Histor. Roman von G. 

Taylor 20 

166 Mayo. Erzahlung v. P. Lindau 10 

167 Die Herrin von Ibichstein von 

F. Henkel 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama- 

row. Erste Halfte 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama- 

row. Zweite Halfte 20 

169 Serapis. Histor. Roman v. G. 

Ebers 20 

170 Ein Gottesurtheil. Roman von 

E. Werner 10 

171 Die Kreuzfahrer. Roman von 

Felix Dahn 20 

l'i'2 Der Erbe von Weidenhof von 

F. Pelzeln 20 

173 Die Reise nach dem Schicksal 

V. Franzos 10 

174 Villa Schonow. Roman v. W. 

Raabe 10 

175 Das Vermachtniss V. Eckstein. 

Erste Halfte 20 

175 Das Vermachtniss v. Eckstein. 

Zweite H5,lfte 20 

176 Herr und Frau Bewer von P. 

Lindau 10 

177 Die Nihilisten von .7oh. Scherr 10 

178 Die Frau mit den Karfunkel- 

steinen von E. Marlit.t 20 

179 Jetta. Von George Taylor 20 

ISO Die Stieftochter. Von j. Smith 20 

181 An der Heilquelle. Von Fried. 

Spielhagen 20 

182 Was der Todtenkopf erziihlt, 

von Jokai 20 

183 Der Zigeunerbaron, von Jokai 10 

184 Himnilische u. irdische Liebe, 

von Paul Heyse 20 

185 Ehre, Roman v. O. Schubin.. . 20 

186 Violanta, Roman v. E. Eckstein 20 

187 Nemi, Erzahlung von H. Wa- 

chenhusen 10 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Erste Haltte 20 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Zweite HSlfte 20 

189 Homo sum, Roman von Georg 

Ebers 20 


Die ,, Deutsche Library" ist bei alien ZeitungshSndlern zu haben, Oder 
wird gegen 12 Cents fur einfache Nummern, oder 25 Cents fiir Doppelnum- 
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die Post bittet man nach Nummern zu bestellen. 

P. O* Box 37S1» 17 to ‘Z7 Vaiulewater Street, New York, 


WUNUO’S PUBLICATIONS. 


The Hew York Fashion Bazar Book of the Toilet 

PIUCE "Za CENTS. 

This is a little book which we can recommend to every lady for the Preserva* 
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arts and mysteries of personal decoration, and for increasing the natural 
graces of form and expression. All the little affections of the skin, hair, eyes 
and body, that detract from appearance and happiness, are made the sub* 
jects of precise and excellent recipes. Ladies are instructed how to reduce 
their weight without injury' to health and without producing pallor and weak- 
ness. Nothing necessary to a complete toilet book of recipes and valuable 
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For sale by all newsdealers, or sent by mail to any address, postage pre- 
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This book Is a guide to good manners and the ways of fashionable society: 
a complete hand-book of behavior: containing all the polite observances of 
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tiitions to dinners, evening parties and entertainments of all descriptions; 
table manners, etiquette of visits and public places; how to serve breakfasts, 
luncheons, dinners and teas; how to dress, travel, shop, and behave at hotels 
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For sale by all newsdealers, or sent by mail to any address on receipt of 
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rections for writing a good letter on all occasions. The latest forms used in 
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For sale by all newsdealers, or sent by mall to any address, postage paid, 
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24 The Mysteries and Miseries of 

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\i ■» I'lLL 


U8T ISSUED. 


JUST ISSUED, 


JULIET COKSOFS 

NEW FAMILY COOK BOOK. 

BY MISS JULIET CORSON, 

Author of “ Meals for the Million,” etc., etc. 
Superintendent op the New York School op Cookect. 


mCE: HAFDS0EEL7 EOUNS IK CLOTH, $1.00. 

i COfflPREHEHSlYE COOK BOOK 

For Family Use in City and Country. 

CONTAINING 

PHACTICAL RECIPES AND FULL AND PLAIN DIREO 
TIONS FOR COOKING ALL DISHES USED 
IN AMERICAN HOUSEHOLDS. 

The Best and Most Economical Methods of Cookingr Meats, Fishf 
Vegetables, Sauces, Salads, Puddings and Pies. 

How to Prepare Relishes and Savory Accessories, Picked-up Dishes, 
Soups, Seasouiug, Stuffins: and Stews. 

How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Fau« 
cakes, Fritters and Fillets. 


Miss Corson is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
have been carefully tested in the New York School of Cookery. If her direc- 
tions are carefully followed there will be no failures and no reason for com- 
plaint. Her diiections are always plain, very complete, and easily followed. 

Juliet Corson’s New Family Cook Book 

Is sold by all newsdealers. It will be sent, postpaid, on receipt of priotf 
handsomely bound in cloth, $1.00. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, 

Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater St.. N. Y- 



POB 


Pears" Transparenj Shavtnc Stick 

POyears established- as the cleanest anl^est* preparation for^SHAVINCt| pit 
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